


And Stand Secure Amidst a Falling World

by IrishWitch58



Series: And Stand Secure [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, End of the World, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:21:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 25,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22989817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishWitch58/pseuds/IrishWitch58
Summary: This is the work that I knew had to precede Begin Again. This is the story of what happened to the world MI6 was created in and for and how the people who worked there adapted. There is heroism, adaptability, ingenuity and a romance in the midst of the end of civilization.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: And Stand Secure [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1652203
Comments: 42
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was hesitant, in the current climate, considering what is in the news cycle to present this. But I honestly worked so hard and cried over my characters and couldn't not share it. Be aware, there is a reference to an attempted suicide by a minor character. I don't normally tag for such but I felt it better to do so.   
The title is from Addison's translation of Horace.

Reviewing the day's news was an essential activity for Q branch. Ripples from even small events could spread and multiply, their echoes creating effects at a distance. Q glanced at the summary that was collated by his overnight staff, prepared for him to peruse with his other briefings. 

He scanned through items about North Korea and it's most recent dubious weapons test. There had been an earthquake in Chile and a massive drugs bust at Heathrow. There was more bluster from the Americans over issues with China and trade. He paused at the next item, a visceral unease sending chill fingers up his spine. Two more cases of bubonic plague were reported in China, after three last week. He knew it was ridiculous to react so strongly but he also knew the disease was one of humanity's oldest and most virulent enemies and had never entirely disappeared. It lurked on the distant fringes of civilization, occasionally sending out soldiers, a case or two, as if testing humanity's defenses. A fanciful and non scientific metaphor to be sure. 

He supposed this was nothing more than that. The odd cases showed up in China, Southeast Asia and the Southwestern United States frequently. Often, they were associated with people coming into contact with infected wildlife. They were identified, treated and resolved. This would be the same sort of thing. He pushed the primitive fear response to the back of his awareness. He finished reading the rest of the items and moved on to the remainder of his morning's business.

Two days later his morning briefing reported four more cases of plague in China. He was alarmed to note the new cases were not in the same province as the first ones. There was also a note about an outbreak of pneumonia in Shanghai with authorities fearing a SARS epidemic and instituting quarantine measures. He began collating reports of disease, compiling a troubling pattern that was made infinitely worse when 004 returned from Shanghai later in the week and reported to M. Q was called into his superior's office very quickly thereafter.

“Sit down, please.” M gestured at his visitor's chair. “Some disturbing news has been communicated by 004. He completed his Shanghai mission but his plane was one of the last out of the city before a general quarantine. His impressions were of a city in chaos, with huge numbers of ill people and schools and government offices being closed. Could this be some type of bio weapon? Even if it's a natural pathogen, we'll need protocols in place to deal with it.”

Q frowned. He was unwilling to theorize yet. “I'll look into all possibilities. Perhaps have medical make certain all field personnel are up to date with vaccines and recall any who are not in compliance.”

M nodded. “Sensible,” he agreed. “Contact medical and coordinate your efforts.”

Q returned to his office and contacted the head of medical. Together they reviewed stores and ordered additional shipments of antibiotics and vaccines. Dr. Saunders considered the list carefully. She looked up at Q with a frown. “I'm not sure I like the direction this is taking. You do know what this looks like?”

Q nodded. “I do know. Please make certain you don't share your surmises with anyone else. I may be wrong and would prefer not to create undue anxiety if I am.”

The next day he didn't need his morning briefing to confirm his concerns. The AM news shows and print headlines were all screaming that Shanghai had been completely quarantined, military units shooting anyone who tried to exit the city. Thousands of cases of respiratory illness were reported, the numbers growing with every update. The crowded urban environment and a highly contagious disease were a recipe for disaster. The Chinese authorities were saying very little. All the news coming out was through social media. Q's investigations of their internal networks revealed a frightening lack of control over the situation and escalating panicked efforts to limit spread as cases were reported in other cities. There were insufficient stores of effective antibiotics, that concern indicating the illness was not believed to be viral. The government was going into hiding. Whispers from some of the doctors who were able to get information to colleagues in other countries said it was not SARS. The rumors were it was pneumonic plague.

Q branch had a low underlying hum that usually only strengthened when a stressful mission was in the works. His technicians were trading worried glances and several of them had an air of genuine fear about them. He strode to his center station, as though it were an ordinary day, and picked up his headset, cuing up the first channel. The CIA was having no luck contacting several operatives supposedly in Kazakhstan and was wondering if MI6 had any insight. The CDC was having an intense exchange with their Russian opposite numbers about something related to DNA of a specific organism. The Russians seemed as confused as the Americans were. There was a mobilization of the National Guard in Texas for an 'anthrax outbreak'. And ominously China had, abruptly, gone all but silent. Q tore off the headset and moved quickly to the lift, unceremoniously stopping at medical to grab Dr. Saunders and head up to the executive offices.

He and Saunders barged in to the outer office. Eve Moneypenny had her gun in hand before recognizing them. Something about their faces impressed her. She hit the button on the speaker. “Q and Dr. Saunders, sir.” The door opened and they stepped inside.

“I've seen some of it. What do you recommend?” M nodded at the screen of his own computer as he spoke, mouth set in a grim line.

Q paced nervously. “There were cases of bubonic plague reported over the past several weeks in China, not unusual at all, but we do keep track. Then there were sudden outbreaks of a respiratory illness. Now, after a hard quarantine on Shanghai, there's no news out of China at all. The little information we can glean suggests the disease is the pulmonary form of the plague.

Saunders was pale but seemed composed. “Plague is not normally much of an issue. It's dangerous untreated but the common bubonic form is not so easily transmissible from person to person. This somehow seems to have jumped very quickly to pneumonic form. That means it is highly contagious and massively more deadly.”

M looked between the two of them. “This level of epidemic would still take time. This can't have happened over only a few days.”

Q continued to pace. “Part of the problem is modern transportation. People move around much more easily and can be exposed and be hundreds of miles away in another city before they have symptoms. And we know how Beijing is. They probably had many more cases than the official reports indicated. This could have been brewing for weeks. And I suspect that the disease has jumped borders as well. There are some serious red flags from Russia and the US. This may become a pandemic.”

M stared over them both, at the windows, at the bustle of London outside, humming busily about it's business. “It seems a bit unreal, talking about something like this.”

Saunders spoke up. “I assure you it is all too real. There have been outbreaks throughout human history. This may be worse. Modern travel is so efficient, there could be cases worldwide right now and it may be impossible to stop.” She took a deep breath and continued. “We likely already have carriers in Britain at this moment. MI6 is in a position to protect our personnel. We have stockpiles of plague vaccine, for agents heading to areas where it's endemic. We have antibiotics that we know work on the organism. We can make ourselves safe here.”

“What exactly are you suggesting?” M's gaze sharpened, flicking between the two of them.

Q took a deep breath. “We can shut this complex down. We can isolate anyone inside from contagion. We engineered the new air and water filtration with bio warfare in mind. So long as nobody goes in or out, we'll be all right. Our field personnel are mainly already vaccinated but I would recommend an additional dose and vaccinate all the other staff as well.”

“You're suggesting we close ourselves off in here and let the rest of the city, the bloody country, go to hell around us?” M's voice was quiet, neutral.

Saunders looked at her clasped hands. “We have sufficient resources to support more than our employees. I recommend we allow immediate family members, spouses and children, to be brought in. That won't be a large number. With the field agents recalled, we have physical protection and the technological skills of Q branch to track what is happening outside and let us know when it will be safe to move.”

“Where in hell did this idea come from?” demanded M.

“From the policy manuals,” Q replied. “It's an old plan from the Cold War days. One of your predecessors signed off on it. It makes a harsh sort of sense. We can protect a certain number of people. We cannot protect everyone. And if we tried, we'd likely protect no one.” 

“And when do we need to enact this policy to ensure it works?” 

“I'd recommend no more than a week or so. We have no way of knowing how many travelers coming in to the country may have been exposed. They're already implementing screenings at the airports and ferry terminals but some cases will invariably slip past.” Q pushed at his glasses. “Human nature being what it is, I would suggest giving lists to the most responsible agents of people to be brought in. This way we won't risk information leaks and being swamped by panicked citizens. I've already set up protocols for outgoing messages.”

M nodded. He abruptly stood, ran his hands through his hair and schooled his face into impassive lines. “Have all agents recalled ASAP. I suppose I can trust Tanner to bring in his family and I'll take care of mine. Assign each of the 00's and the senior field team to bring in the families of the staff. Check the personnel files and get names and pictures for them. Put the accounting staff and such to work with maintenance in outfitting the bunkers for living space. How about food supplies?” Once resigned to the idea, M seemed to fall back on the practical challenges.

Saunders spoke up. “I took the liberty of stockpiling, sir. We already have a large supply of ORP's and another large shipment is arriving this evening. We received several truckloads of canned and freeze dried foods over the last few days, almost a year's worth. We have redundant power backups including solar and hydro. I believe we can outlast any outbreak and the subsequent chaos.”

M raised an eyebrow. Q picked up the thread. “There are always people naturally resistant and the genetic research I've seen points to a fairly high resistance in the British population based on being descended from survivors of the medieval plague. And some will just escape exposure. And there will be utter panic once the true extent becomes evident. I would guess the level of violence would be epic. We may have to fight our way to a safe location when the disease burns itself out. I'm already considering the possible sites for a mass relocation. We'll need heavy vehicles and weaponry.”

M looked from one to the other of them. “Get about it. Use whatever resources you need.” He shook his head as he looked at the computer screen, the sound muted, and the news crawl showing riots in three nations and footage of the Red Cross sending medical aid to Africa.


	2. Chapter 2

Over the following twenty four hours, confused agents were called back to headquarters. James Bond had just come back from Paraguay. He walked into Q branch, rubbing his arm where he had just gotten a booster vaccine and took in the air of anxiety that permeated the workspace. R gestured him over to her station. “007. Glad to see you back. Did you get the briefing.?”

“I did. I still find it a bit difficult to get my head around. I gather I have people to bring in for safety?” Bond leaned his unperforated shoulder against the wall. 

“Yes. I have only one more on the list. The wife of one of our R&D techs. This is her home address and a picture.” R sighed unhappily and looked at the closed office door, Q's private office. “I do wish we could help him though.”

“If Q has family, I would have thought they'd be a high priority.” Bond responded.

“Just his cat. He only has the one left now. He won't ask anyone to go and M won't let him go.” R shook her head. “The poor thing has a feeder but that won't last forever. The animal is very elderly anyway so I suppose it doesn't really matter.”

Bond looked at the door again. “It will matter to Q. Give me his address and make sure I can get in.”

She happily handed over a post it on which she had printed an address and a security code. “I think he keeps the carrier in the hall closet.”

Bond had a vague idea he had been managed but decided it was a small thing he could do. Q had apparently created a safe zone for as many people as he could. He deserved a small consideration in return.

The streets were swarming with cars trying to get out of the city. He saw no less than five accidents on the way and avoided a gang of half a dozen attacking the security gates on a grocery store. There had been leaked reports in the news that the disease that had ravaged China and was currently making deadly inroads in Europe and Russia, was already in England. Several cases were in isolation wards but more were anticipated. Unrest was increasing and London was becoming dangerous. Racist attacks against Chinese communities were rampant. The tube had been shut down to avoid having crowds spreading infection and businesses were shuttered as were most government offices. Fortunately, Mrs. Elsworth was a practical young woman and appeared to have a strong sense of self preservation. She came along readily enough when he presented ID and had her check with her husband on his MI6 mobile. Q's flat was on the way back and Bond found a space in the back, partially concealed from the street by a large van. He left Mrs. Elsworth with the vehicle and a shotgun once she assured him that she was the daughter of a farmer and knew how to use it. The cat seemed eager to welcome him, lonely apparently, and went easily into the carrier. He packed a tote from the same closet with cat food and brought everything down to the car. There were several interrogatory mews but the animal seemed otherwise content just to watch out the mesh carrier sides. Mrs. Elsworth cooed to it as Bond struggled through the traffic, thrilled to be able to finally pull the car through the gates and into the underground garage at MI6. 

He took the lift up and directed Mrs. Elsworth to medical for clearance and brought the carrier to Q branch. On getting an approving nod from R he tapped at the closed office door. There was a muffled acknowledgment and he pushed the door open, holding his burden behind him out of immediate view.

“007. I gather you've been out in the city today, How bad is it?” Q's face was pale and deep circles under his eyes testified to more hours than wise spent working. He frowned as Bond entered and closed the door with a nudge of a foot. He placed the carrier down gently and straightened up. Q's eyes widened and he stood. “What did you do?”

“I retrieved your family for you. I had to go out anyway and it seemed cruel not to do it when I had the chance.” Bond watched as Q removed his glasses and rubbed a hand across his eyes as he knelt to open the carrier. The cat swanned out with a rusty sounding meow and stropped herself against Q's knees. “R said you had just the one now.”

Q had busied himself with tipping food into a bowl and setting it down in a corner, sniffling unobtrusively. “Yes. This is Rosalind. Her sister, Ada, died of kidney problems about eight months ago. She's 17 now. Quite the little old lady. Thank you for getting her here.” Q stood up and settled on the ancient sofa across from his desk. Rosalind was eating, a bit noisily. Bond took the other end of the sofa. 

“How bad is this likely to get?” Bond asked. 

“It will get much worse. This disease will kill almost everyone. It's that deadly. The vaccine was never widely used so there was never a large production of it, mostly just for us and the military. And the antibiotics that work are old, not widely stocked either. We have enough but we can't afford to have any break in the quarantine here. I have technicians installing more cameras on the roof and the entrances. Once they come in, we're closing everything up tight. I have countermeasures on all the entrances. Things are going to go to hell fairly quickly.” Q ran his hands over his face again before replacing his glasses. Bond thought he looked both older and younger, younger without the glasses but so much older with lines of care etched into his face. “Thank you for bringing me Rosalind. It probably seems pointless when so many people are going to die.”

Bond waved off the comment. “It matters to you. Rescuing your poor cat isn't going to change anything for anyone out there. But you'll have one less thing to worry about. It seemed like a small thing to do. You're saving all the rest of us.” He sat back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do we need to think about patrols or guard posts? Might be a way to keep the field agents occupied.” 

Q considered that, nodding slowly. “I don't suppose you could take charge of that? You know the capabilities of all the agents. Maybe keep them on a training schedule as well.”

Bond nodded. “That won't present a problem. They'll need to expend energy somehow. It might help to start physical training for everyone. Exercise is stress relieving and the better physical shape everyone is in when we have to make a new start, the better chance we all have.”

Q frowned and looked at his hands for a moment or two. “Maybe get in touch with Dr. Saunders in medical. Not everyone is starting from the same place. We need to minimize injuries.”

Bond nodded. “What about weapons training? Your branch is fairly good if the range scores are worth anything. Might be useful to make sure as many as possible can handle at least basic firearms.”

“Agreed. We certainly have enough weapons to go around. I'll copy M on this. He'll want to give input on some of it.”


	3. Chapter 3

As conditions outside worsened, the news coming in was more chaotic. Thirty six hours after the last of the designated family members were brought in, Q sealed off the complex. Videos showed riots, conflicts between police and civilians and bodies being disposed of in mass graves. As the deaths mounted, the burials became grotesque floods of wrapped forms being dumped from trucks. The international news was no better. China had never surfaced after it's initial silence. Russia had reports of the army in rebellion after being ordered to fire on civilians swarming hospitals in search of medical aid. Government officials were rumored to be sequestered in the Kremlin. Europe was a sea of conflicting stories. There were some attempts at normality but the on air news announcers were unfamiliar faces and appeared fearful. Africa and South America were collapsing into local wars on top of the devastation of the disease. North America was on a rapid slide to hell as well. They had held onto a veneer of civilization for a bit longer but they were now also suffering from insufficient resources and panicked citizens. It was reported that armed mobs had established encampments, essentially creating their own governments around unofficial militias.

Britain's experience of the Big Death was as appalling as predicted. The name had rapidly been adopted, no one being sure where it was first heard. Hospitals and aid stations were overrun by huge influxes of the ill and frightened. Finding little help, some of the more violent had slaughtered personnel, blaming them for the plague. M's private line was flooded with demands that he let various government officials in and threats when he refused. He shook his head and ignored entreaties and threats, especially since it was becoming apparent there would be no way of delivering on the threats. Rumor had it that the Royals had been taken to a 'safe location'.

Over the next two weeks, the broadcasts tapered off. News stations were on the air fewer hours every day and one day, there was nothing but dead air. The screens showing the feed from the external cameras displayed a shifting hell scape of roving gangs looting and fighting each other. Random victims of the disease wandered deliriously, collapsing where ever death finally took them. And there were fires raging unchecked as fire brigades fell to the disease as well. Odd figures roamed about carrying signs in huge letters proclaiming the plague as divine retribution, apparently unconcerned with their lack of audience. 

In the midst of the horrors outside, on the fourth week of the lock down, a figure approached the hidden entrance on the side opposite the river. He was tall, blonde and solidly built and dressed in army fatigues. A heavy hand pounded at the sealed door and an insistent press of the intercom buzzer tapped out impatient rhythms. “Fucking let me in,” a gruff voice demanded. In the midst of the knocking, another figure approached, this one dressed in ragged bloodied clothes and brandishing an improbably huge sword. Without ceasing his tattoo on the door, the first man raised a pistol and fired, a bloody circle blooming in the swordsman's forehead as he collapsed.

“It's Trevelyan,” R almost squeaked.

Q leaned forward in his chair and tripped the speaker switch. “006. Are you well?”

“Well as can be expected for having to walk halfway here from the airport. The helicopter I 'borrowed' got me that far and a motorcycle part of the way from the airport. “Fuck it. My feet hurt and I need a drink. Let me in.”

Q sat back, aware that everyone was watching him for cues. “Wait a moment, 006. I need to consult medical.” There was a grumbled response that might have been a curse in Russian and the figure on the monitor rummaged in a much battered rucksack at his feet, eventually producing a clear glass bottle and swallowing a hefty amount, leaning against the wall.

Q switched to medical. “Dr. Saunders, please.” There was a short period of dead air before Saunders responded. “Saunders, I have 006 outside. His most recent assignment was Central Asia. He wishes to enter. I need advice based on your expertise. How recent are his vaccinations? How much of a risk might this be?”

Saunders gave a derisive snort. “I think that one eats germs for breakfast. He's been vaccinated for anything we have a jab for. Because of the location of his mission, he received a plague booster before this outing. I would feel safe admitting him if he is asymptomatic and agrees to a week long quarantine and a course of antibiotics.”

Q switched back to the intercom near the door. “006, pay attention.” Trevelyan gave a lopsided salute in the direction of the camera. Q suspected the clear bottle had something to do with that. “Have you had a fever or cough?”

“Not a fucking thing, Q. Healthy as ever.” He waved the considerably depleted bottle for emphasis. ”Alcohol kills germs.”

“Dr. Saunders says she is inclined to let you in provided you go into quarantine and take a course of antibiotics. You will be cooperative or I will see you tossed straight out again. No one here is going to risk allowing this disease any avenue to enter. Am I clear?” Q's voice was low and steady and absolutely convincing. 

Trevelyan gave a shrug. “Not much choice, is there? Tell medical I'll be a very good boy for them.”

Q watched as Saunders and her team, dressed in full isolation gear, set up in the vestibule before opening the outer door. Trevelyan was led in, stripped to the skin and doused head to toe in antibacterial agents. He was handed scrubs and a mask and led off to the negative pressure room in medical. 

Q sat back, removing his glasses and dragging his hands over his face. He heard a slight noise behind him and swiveled his chair around. Bond was sitting, or rather was perched on a corner of the table directly behind him. Q noted he was not wearing a suit but a pair of tactical canvas trousers and a dark heavy jumper. When had he stopped wearing suits? Bond nodded his head at the screen. “I'm glad he's back. I was sure no disease could get the better of Alec.”

Q replaced his glasses and let out a gusty sigh. “I'm rather glad he agreed to the conditions. I'm surprised you didn't say something to him. You're good friends. I'm sure he would have listened to you.”

Bond examined his left hand critically, rubbing idly at a small bandage. “I could have said something but you had it well in hand. I didn't want to undermine your position. The way I see things, at the moment you're the one keeping this place going. People need to have one person they look to for leadership in a circumstance like this.” Bond was giving Q a head to toe assessment with those arctic eyes of his. In a very low voice, he continued. “You might want to think about resting a bit more. This is a marathon, not a sprint, and you can't afford to have exhaustion interfere with you functioning.” He made a gesture toward Q's private office. “Take a break and I'll bring you some food.”

Q found himself standing without any clear intent to do so. He was tired, he reflected. And there was really no reason not to step away for a bit. His staff would know where he was. He tagged the senior tech on the current shift and walked to his office. Rosalind was grooming on his futon/sofa and interrupted her swipe at a foot for only a brief second before resuming. She had adapted very well to her new life, seeming content with Q being around and available for impromptu snacks and pets. She had gained a little weight, Q suspecting that branch members were sneaking her treats. He eased himself down on the cushion and watched her for a bit. Apparently satisfied with her self care routine, she moved over to Q and began stamping her tiny front feet up and down against his thigh, purring violently and slitting her eyes half closed. He stroked her until she seemed satisfied with the degree of attention. She settled on the cushion next to him, tucking her feet under and moderating the purr to a low hum.

He was still sitting staring at nothing when the door reopened. Bond entered, placing a tray on the low table. Q found himself with a mug of soup in his hands, the steam fogging his glasses when he ventured a sip. Hot but manageable. Time seemed to be passing in jerky frames, like an old film. When he looked down the mug was empty and Bond was handing him a sandwich and pulling the mug away. Q frowned, feeling a bit out of sorts at being treated like a child but not bothered enough to complain. Especially when he had no clear recollection of when he had last eaten. He became aware that Bond had moved to the sofa, eating his own sandwich and attracting the attention of Rosalind. To Q's shock, she reached out a delicate imperious paw and shamelessly hooked a scrap of ham out of 007's sandwich. It was even more shocking when the man just grinned at her and petted her head with a careful finger. She rubbed along the digit and wandered off the futon to her water bowl.

“Come on, Q. I promised I'd try and get you to rest.” Bond found the catches that flattened the futon frame out and Q again felt the disconnect as the next moment he was lying down, the quilt he kept over the back of the cushions draped over him. Rosalind meowed and jumped up next to his hip, immediately settling in her long accustomed spot. Q felt his glasses swept off and he would have sworn he felt a brief brush of lips over his forehead. That was a very silly thing to imagine and that was the last thing he recalled before sleep sucked him down.


	4. Chapter 4

Life inside settled down to a routine. M and Tanner had organized training regimens for anyone not actually an agent. Hand to hand classes were mandatory for anyone physically able and were supervised by the agents. Weapons safety and training were encouraged and those classes were also well attended. Q and Dr. Saunders speculated that the confinement was more tolerable with the activity. To that end, other classes were instituted. People were participating in learning everything from vehicle maintenance to gardening under full spectrum lights set up in one of the tunnels. There was a floating poker game among M, Moneypenny and some of the 00's and there were rumors that some of the Q branch technicians were experimenting with a still. There were a number of romances, some appeared to be doomed to be short lived but at least two seemed set to be long term things. 

Trevelyan, for a miracle, sat quietly in medical for the required quarantine with only minor grumbling. Bond was leaning against the wall waiting when he was released. “Find me a damned drink, James,” he demanded as the doctor waved them on their way. “The last decent drink I had was in Helsinki at the start of that damned mission.”

“Never tell me that you weren't able to find alcohol.” James nudged a shoulder roughly.

Alec grunted. “The selection in Tajikistan is decidedly limited. And I defy anyone to deal with what's going on outside without a drink. Christ, you have no idea the shit I saw.” They had wandered along the corridors to the lounge area attached to the offices the 00's used. It was presently empty. Bond ducked into one of the offices and there was a series of metallic bangs and he returned to the lounge with a bottle about three quarters full. He gestured with it to a battered sofa and Alec settled into the cushions. Bond joined him, tugging the cork out of the bottle and passing it over. Trevelyan sniffed the neck of the bottle, shrugged, and swigged some down. “Not bad,” he acknowledged. He turned the bottle around, but it had no label. “What is it?”

Bond reclaimed the bottle, taking a more measured sip. “Some of the boffins have a still set up. They make a passable poteen. It's certainly sufficiently alcoholic.”

Alec took another swallow. “Speaking of boffins, I hear Q is pretty much running the show. Not that I mind. That one has a good head on his shoulders.”

Bond nudged his old friend and got the bottle back. He sipped contemplatively, eying the bottle as if it might hold important intel, before he passed it back. “M is taking official responsibility in the paperwork, although I doubt there'll be anyone to ask after it by the time this is done. He's given Q and Saunders a free hand.”

Alec eyed him with a skeptical expression. “I heard you and Q were getting quite close. Rescuing his cat and making sure he's fit. Got something to tell your old friend?” 

Bond avoided looking back for the moment. Alec always saw too much. They had known each other far too long to be able to keep secrets easily. “Maybe,” he allowed. “If it were up to me, definitely. I've no idea how he feels about it.”

Alec wasn't drunk but he was getting expansively good humored. “So ask him, James. Nothing ventured and all that.” He placed the cork in the bottle after two tries and clapped a hand on Bond's shoulder. “Now show me where I'm supposed to bunk in this little hostel of ours.”

Bond rose easily and gave Alec a hand up, as he was determined not to let go of the bottle. He led him past the rooms that had been set up with bunks for single personnel. He had lucked out as one of the senior agents and had a room with only one additional bed, until now vacant. “You're bunking with me. We'll requisition extra clothes and such for you tomorrow. Get some rest. I have rounds to do.”

Alec bounced experimentally on the mattress of the twin bed. “Rounds for what?”

Bond picked up a tablet from the small desk. “I'm supervising the guard schedules. It was thought prudent to keep the agents busy and to maintain a watch on food and weapons stores. I make irregular rounds to check things myself. Which reminds me, do you want guard duty or classes? I was thinking of putting you down for hand to hand.”

“Teaching who, James?” Alec had settled back against the pillow, bottle within reach.

Bond grinned. “I was thinking of turning you loose on the finance department. You know, those bean counters who made you fly economy the last few missions?”

Alec beamed, an unconvincing expression to anyone who knew him as well as Bond did. “I will be sure to treat them gently.” He was chuckling to himself as James closed the door to begin his rounds.


	5. Chapter 5

The corridors and tunnels were lit and there was always noise at some level now, no matter where you went in the complex. Areas that had been vacant had been turned into sleeping and storage spaces but the lights at this hour were generally low. James acknowledged the agents on shift and chatted with the on duty personnel in medical. Their only patient now, with Alec out of quarantine, was the daughter of a technician who had broken her arm chasing a playmate down a tunnel. The executive levels were quiet except for the low murmur of a film soundtrack from the conference room that sometimes served as an impromptu cinema. He checked the main lobby where two guards monitored the doors, all locked down with the bomb shutters closed, a grey steel curtain on the outside of the glass panels. External view was only through a camera feeding to the guard station. Bond watched for several minutes. Three young people outside were gathered around a fire in a trash bin. They all carried visible weapons. They were the only sign of life. None of them appeared ill but there were a pair of bodies collapsed on the embankment. There was no way of telling if they were victims of disease or violence. He checked off the location on the tablet and moved on. 

His last stop on his rounds was always Q branch. He varied the rest of the route but ended up there every time. Ostensibly it was because the techs always had coffee brewing and he'd help himself to a cup. That was the answer he'd give if anyone asked. The real draw, if he acknowledged the pull, was Q himself. He was usually here at odd hours, either in his private office or on the main floor. Tonight he was in the office, some music Bond couldn't identify playing softly from hidden speakers as Q leaned back in his desk chair, acknowledging Bond and gesturing to the old sofa. Bond sat, being careful to allow Rosalind her space. He sipped his coffee from the mug someone in the branch had designated as his, a Star Wars storm trooper helmet. He hadn't figured out why but he accepted it as a part of the odd way the techs seemed to have allowed him into their family. 

“Alec's out of quarantine. He's bunking in my quarters,” Bond began. He reached absently to pet the cat who was butting insistently at him and grabbing at his left hand with her foot. “I'll put him in the instructors' rotation tomorrow.” Q nodded as he rose from his desk chair, stretching his arms above his head and then leaning forward with a grimace, resting his hands on the desk. Bond crooked a finger at him. “Let me do something about that.”

Q looked at him, a puzzled frown creasing his forehead. “About what?”

“Your back is clearly playing up. What you should be doing is stretching and taking some time in the gym.” Bond picked up Rosalind with a careful two handed cradle and deposited her on the padded seat of the desk chair and grabbed Q by one unresisting hand and settled him on the quickly flattened futon. Q shifted his glasses to safety as Bond took a firm grip on his shoulders. “This would be better without the shirt and jumper on,” he commented. Q looked over his shoulder with a completely dubious expression. “Back rub, dear Boffin. I'm told I have a good touch.” 

After a moment's hesitation, Q managed in a sinuous wriggle to rid himself of the articles of clothing. He waved a hand vaguely at his desk. “There's something for my hands in the top drawer. Saunders gave it to me.”

Bond took the few steps and found a medium sized bottle in the indicated drawer. Opening the cap showed the product was unscented and slid smoothly across skin. He nodded approval and returned to Q's side, warming a handful of the cream. He began with a light glide across the skin, feeling the areas that were tense and letting Q get used to the contact. He added more of the stuff and sought out the problem spots, pressing and kneading. He found a particular degree of tension in the left shoulder. “What did you lift with this arm? Something you didn't expect to be so heavy, I'd guess.” He gripped the upper arm and rotated the joint gently so he could get his fingers under the edge of the shoulder blade. “Your trapezius is knotted up.” He dug in and pressed and Q gave a grunt that sounded pained and then eased off to a sigh. 

“How did you know to do that? What did you do? It's been uncomfortable for ages.” Q's voice held a hint of awe and a lot of relief. “And yes, I tried to lift a table I hadn't known was bolted down.”

Bond smoothed over the now relaxed muscle and moved down. “As many injuries as I've had and the amount of time I've had to spend in the hands of physiotherapists, I have picked up a few things. The muscle was tensed. You had trouble moving your shoulder. I pushed hard enough that I temporarily cut off the blood flow to that muscle. It can't keep the tension without energy coming in so it eventually has to relax. But it hurts like fuck when it does.” The whole time he was speaking, he was moving his hands. Q was pliant under them, breathing easily now. “Ticklish anywhere?”

Q's voice held infinite suspicion. “Why would I give you information like that?”

Bond chuckled. “So I don't touch those places. Or rather so I touch them properly. A lighter touch is ticklish, a firm one not so much.”

Q took a moment to think about that. “Just below my ribs,” he finally allowed. “Not so much in back, more on the sides.” 

Bond cataloged the spot and moved on. He dragged his thumbs firmly down the middle of Q's very elegant back, rotating them in small circles and registering each vertebra as he did. He stopped at the base and fanned his palms out, gliding back up and out in slow sweeps. Obligingly, Q became more and more relaxed, the structures under Bond's hands apparently soothed. He eventually ventured out to the sides. Initially Q twitched, as if anticipating something unpleasant. Bond shushed him quietly, keeping the contact firm enough to smooth out the underlying muscles without feeling ticklish. 

It was some minutes later, when Bond settled back on the edge of the thin mattress, that he realized Q was asleep. He had managed to lull the feisty, energetic, aggravating man to sleep. He shook the blanket out and draped it over the sleeping man, amused when Rosalind sauntered over from the chair and jumped up next to Q, patting at the blanket and then curling up next to his hip. Bond recapped the skin lotion and stood up. He stroked the cat's head with a single finger, smiling as she pushed her head into the contact. “Hedonist,” he said mildly. He ran one palm lightly over Q's tumbled dark hair and risked a quick kiss. What Q didn't know wouldn't hurt either of them. He set the bottle on the corner of the desk and left the office, closing the door softly. The head of shift looked up at him and nodded, an unspoken conspiracy to watch out for the man who was keeping them safe.


	6. Chapter 6

Q woke up to a buzz from the door and an apologetic “Good morning, Boss. I brought you tea.” He opened his eyes wider and hunted up his glasses. He had fallen asleep in his trousers but no shirt, oddly. He sat up and accepted the offered cuppa after pulling the blanket around his shoulders. He no longer found it strange when his staff woke him this way. His office was also his bedroom. “I thought you'd want to get breakfast or at least tea before the meeting.”

Q blinked as his mind settled into work mode. He had a meeting with M and the department heads as well as the newly designated team leads this morning. He nodded thanks to Fuller for the wake up and the tea and set about getting ready. As he settled at the desk, his eyes lit on the hand cream. Bond had been here last night. Truthfully, he was here most nights for at least some of the evening. Last night had been...intimate. Q shifted a bit in his chair. His back certainly felt better. He grabbed his change of clothes and tugged yesterday's shirt back on for the walk down the corridor to the locker room and showers. Only one other person was there. He nodded at the man, a tech from automotive named Gardiner who was just finishing his morning shave. 

Q proceeded on to the showers, recalling the one second in from the left had the best water pressure. He stripped off, stepped in and began to scrub. There was a dull thunk as the door to the corridor closed, Gardiner leaving, no doubt. Q felt a bit of guilty pleasure. He had the place to himself, privacy being extremely hard to come by. He took his time, something he had been reluctant to do. He told himself he had been trying to set an example for his department. After all, he had his office to himself. He shouldn't take advantage in the shared facilities. But this felt so freeing. He raised his arms to run fingers through his hair, scrubbing at his scalp and smiled at the ease of movement. Bond really did know what he was doing. He felt an unaccustomed tightness low down in his belly. It took a moment to realize what was happening. He had given no thought to this aspect of his life in the past weeks. Abruptly, his libido seemed to be taking an interest again. He kept part of his attention on the sounds around him, not wanting someone to walk in and find him. It was probably not the worst thing to be caught wanking but he'd always been a bit shy about it, even when he'd had a lover. And wasn't that a long time ago? The hair conditioner proved a good way to slick his hand and he relaxed into the pleasure. Abruptly the thought of Bond intruded. He shoved that away but he also had lost some of his interest. He tried to continue with ex boyfriends or film stars in his mind's eye but had no better luck with either. Frustrated now, he thought back to the previous night. Bond had wonderful strong hands. And there was that lovely voice. His cock immediately perked up and responded to the idea of Bond. Q was sure it was a bad idea but his body was running this show. He visualized Bond rubbing his back last night, then turning him to resume the caring attention on his front. What would that larger hand feel like on his cock, stroking gently or demandingly? It was all over very quickly. Q leaned a palm against the tile and ducked his head under the spray. He finished washing quickly and found the locker area still deserted. He shaved and dressed and studied himself in the mirror. Time to behave himself again. He turned and exited the locker room, picking up his notes in his office and heading to the executive conference room.


	7. Chapter 7

M had the sideboard in the conference room set with coffee, tea and an assortment of muffins and scones. His wife and the eldest son of one of the medical staff had bonded over baking and spent large amounts of time producing new recipes which did a great deal for morale. Dr. Saunders was already present and nibbling a muffin. M was seated, sipping his coffee. He acknowledged Q and gestured at the sideboard. Q availed himself of tea and an apple muffin dusted with cinnamon. He'd sampled them before and found the flavor a favorite. The rest of the attendees wandered in, browsed through the baked goods and took seats. Q was immediately aware when Bond entered. The air seemed to shift in a unique way and a broad hand trailed over the back of Q's chair before the man claimed the seat next to him and accepted a cup of coffee handed across by Saunders. Mallory tapped his mug for attention.

“The latest intelligence from outside these walls suggests we are the only functional civilized group in London. The few indications are that the plague is still highly virulent. Camera feeds show groups of ill people outside shuttered hospitals and aid stations and the few others not showing signs of sickness are collecting in gangs with stolen and makeshift weaponry. People not dying of the disease are dying by violence. This is in line with the predictions that led us to isolate ourselves.” He sipped his coffee and finally looked up. “I would like some updates at this time. How is the supply situation?”

This was Tanner's overall responsibility. He produced a small tablet and read off a few statistics before dropping the device. “Sod that,” he muttered. “We have completely adequate amounts of food for our resident population for eighteen months. The numbers are even better than expected with the amount of vegetables we're growing both hydroponically and with the grow lights in the tunnels. The only issue we may run into is boredom with the selection, but that's not a concern yet.”

Dr. Saunders took over, earning a grateful glance from Tanner. “Medical is status quo. We're seeing minor injuries and treating some residents for anxiety and sleep related issues. We're keeping a close eye on everyone's mental health. Mr. Trevelyan is out of quarantine and entirely healthy.”

Moneypenny took over from there. “Morale is actually better than might be expected. The presence of families is definitely positive. All adults have been assigned work shifts, classes are ongoing for the children, and there are sufficient entertainments to fill any leisure time. There are several spontaneously formed self support groups and I have made Dr. Saunders aware of them as a resource.”

Bond was next in the round. “I added 006 to the training instructor pool. He's best kept busy and his style of using found objects in self defense will prove useful.” There was barely muffled snickering from the others. “The weapons training is proceeding although I have requested added screening from psych for anyone new to the range. At the suggestion of Mrs. Mallory, I have added yoga and tai chi classes for anyone interested. We'll post details as we have them.”

Q waved the discussion past him, gesturing to Kavanaugh to present her information. She held up a design schematic. “I'm building a fleet of these, cannibalizing anything else in the garages to armor and weaponize them. When we are ready to move, we'll have sufficient of these to transport the population and necessary supplies to whatever location is selected.” The design was passed around with nods of approval and an admiring whistle from Moneypenny. 

That left Q, the last to speak. He rolled out a map and pointed to a spot he had marked. “This is where I plan to move us to. Beeston Weir is a small hydro power plant on the Trent. It's made to a relatively simple design and should be easy to keep functional while providing power to keep a medium sized settlement comfortable, even assuming, as I do, that we will add people to our number as time passes. Shortwave monitoring has demonstrated a few small collections of population that appear to be healthy and non aggressive. We will want to grow our numbers and add people with more skills to our community. The plant will provide heat, light and defense. I would run a high voltage current through the surrounding fences in the event of any attempted attack, a very effective deterrent to anyone trying to invade.”

“You anticipate we'll have to fight?” M asked.

Bond took the question. “Almost certainly. We'll have resources. The minute that becomes evident, there will be those trying to take them from us. I'd put gun emplacements at the power plant gates as well and keep them manned overnight. We'd be better off running perimeter patrols as well. Any sign of an assault and the guards set off an alarm to pull everyone inside the fence and use it as a fortress.”

M sat back and examined his now empty coffee cup. “When might we anticipate this move?”

Saunders and Q exchanged looks before the doctor spoke. “We should wait for the cold, first freeze if possible. By then the disease will have largely burned out and the chance of contagion from corpses will be lessened by the cold.”

“So at least several more months underground then.” M leaned over the map. “Beeston Weir it will be. Should we communicate the time line generally?”

Saunders spoke carefully. “I think the eventual goal will be a hopeful thing but don't attach a time line. If things go more slowly, it may make the morale worse. Just a notice that we have settled on a new location to be reached once everything is in place for the move.”


	8. Chapter 8

The rest of the staff wandered out slowly. Bond waited until Q rose, gathering up his miscellaneous papers. The map he left for Mallory. He had several more available and some a great deal more detailed. Q was startled by a light touch to his elbow and glanced up to see Bond watching him with a hint of a smile. “Come on then. Gym.”

Q frowned. Bond was attired in dark denim and a navy pullover. The denim was very distracting, clinging in all the right places and with no overhanging suit coat to obstruct the view, those places were, frankly, very attractive. Q dragged his gaze back up to Bond's face, hoping he'd not been too obviously staring. “I was going back to my office,” he protested mildly. 

Bond looked at him quite seriously. “You're not getting enough exercise.” He put up a hand to forestall any argument. “You'll have a better appetite, you'll sleep better, and you'll work more efficiently if you strengthen your muscles and not have to deal with aches and pains.”

Q couldn't argue with the logic. Every damned thing the man said was the truth. He had pushed for as many varieties of exercise classes as could be managed for all the residents. But there was so much to do.

As if reading his mind, Bond continued. “The work isn't going anywhere. Take an hour a few times a week. I can lay out a program for you.” As they spoke, they had been moving toward the lift. Q found himself rather bemusedly following Bond inside and trying with difficulty not to stare at Bond's bum and thighs in tight clinging denim. They arrived at the gym level and Q was nudged ever so gently to the locker area where Bond presented him with a set of shorts and a tee shirt and a pair of trainers and socks before heading to the other side of the bank of lockers where Q heard a tinny bang of a door. He shrugged and selected an empty locker and began to disrobe. He sorted the clothes and discovered Bond had even thought to provide a support, apparently new in the plastic package. This might not be so bad. Logically he knew that Bond was correct. He could use the exercise for any number of reasons. He had used the gym regularly before the current crisis and had usually enjoyed the physical engagement. He finished dressing and closed the door. Bond rounded the edge of the rank of lockers and led the way to the gym. MI6 had large facilities for exercise and separate rooms for weight training, cardio, and interactive martial arts as well as the full size pool. Bond pointed to a stationary bike. “Warm up a little first.”

Agreeable, Q mounted the bike, setting a decent pace and beginning to relax. If he were truthful, it felt good to work his body in place of his mind for a change. He pedaled evenly, aware of Bond gathering equipment along the edge of a mat nearby, eventually gesturing Q to join him. Q stepped on to the mat. He was peripherally aware of other small groups scattered about the space, working with instructors. 

Bond held up a set of elastic bands. “Stretches first with moderate resistance before we start with weights. We should focus on shoulders and upper back at least a couple of days a week. What with sitting in front of a computer all day, you automatically round your shoulders forward. The exercises I planned are to strengthen the muscles that pull your shoulders back to a more stable alignment.” He set Q to a repetitive series of moves with the resistance bands, circling him, commenting on his stance and occasionally touching lightly to adjust it. After several minutes, Q was sweating, and not just from the exertion. Bond in his suits had been elegant artistry. In snug denim he had been a temptation for the eyes. But, in just a pair of athletic shorts and a tee shirt that was at least a size too small, he was irresistible. Every casual move displayed a smooth flow of muscle and made Q sweat a great deal more than was warranted by the mild exercise. Hopefully, Bond would not notice.

Bond picked that moment to break into Q's thoughts, making him start a tiny bit. “I think you're ready for the weights. Let's try a few sets.” He handed Q a pair of hand weights and demonstrated the moves he wanted. Q copied the action and tried as much as possible not to look at Bond next to him. It became marginally easier as he tired and had to concentrate more on what he was doing. Eventually however, Bond took the weights away and pointed at the mat. “Lie down.” Frankly feeling the need for a break, Q did as directed, lying on his stomach and resting his head on his crossed arms. “How are you feeling? Anything hurting?” Bond ran a hand lightly over Q's upper back and abruptly the atmosphere became charged with an entirely new energy. Q felt a small shudder and had to struggle to answer.

“No, nothing hurts.” Even to his own ears, his voice sounded strangled and he hoped Bond would attribute it to exertion and the position he was in. He was far from hurting unless one counted the throb and ache as his cock tried to fill. Bond continued his gentle survey which was doing absolutely nothing to improve things. The hand moved to his mid back. 

“Everything feels pretty loose.” Bond commented in the same matter of fact tone he had used throughout. Q felt an hysterical giggle try to force it's way out. There was something definitely NOT loose but he couldn't think of a reason to make the man stop and all he wanted to do was hump the mat like a randy dog. He thought he was getting it under control when Bond pushed a tiny bit, just where the dip in Q's spine gave way to the rise of his arse. Q couldn't help it. He gave a guttural groan and a sharp thrust down into the mat, an unmistakable movement. Bond's hand halted and took a soft grip of Q's far shoulder. It all flashed through Q's mind, turning over and Bond realizing that the friendship and willingness to help had been entirely misinterpreted. And Q heaved up and back, heedless of anyone else in the room and ran, ignoring Bond calling after him.


	9. Chapter 9

Q hurried uncaring through the corridors, cold sweat replacing the heat of exercise and arousal. He wondered if Bond would follow and if it would be better or worse if he did. He reached Q branch and scurried for his office, locking the door behind him and running to the wash basin. He splashed his face with the cool water and slowly raised it to confront himself in the mirror. His face stared back, eyes shocked wide in panic and residual arousal. He scoffed at himself for allowing his libido to spoil things for him. He knew better, for fuck's sake. 

The knock at the door almost made him scream, his nerves were that tightly strung. He held on to the sink edge, knuckles whitening as the knock sounded again. He knew it had to be Bond. He'd have to talk to him sooner or later. It just felt too immediate right now. He settled on the edge of the futon, stroking Rosalind and waited for another knock. There was only silence. He sat staring at the wall opposite, the large surveyor map of Beeston Weir hung next to the calendar Q branch listed projects on. Old fashioned to be sure but it had been a branch tradition and the notations had been a peculiar sort of shorthand branch members used with each other. When the silence had stretched on for a while, he rose to his feet and collected some fresh clothes from the cabinet in the corner and peeked out the office door. Some of the techs glanced up, worry straining their faces. He put on a smile and headed for the showers, thankfully deserted when he arrived. 

Cleaned and dressed, he returned to his branch, He wandered between the occupied cubicles, straining to find some normalcy in the midst of the day's insanity. He paused and wondered what it said that living underground and sealed off in the midst of a plague out break had become his normal and the idea of a simple human connection was the insane idea. He went to the garages and checked with Kavanaugh. There were four vehicles complete and two more being fitted with armour. He returned to branch and settled into his office, planning on working as he usually did. He had been sitting over his desk for some hours. 

Stevens poked her head around the corner and smiled crookedly. “Boss, we're going to get supper. Should we get you anything? I think it's vegetarian stir fry tonight.”

He grinned back, the expression feeling unnatural but what was expected. “No. Not terribly hungry. Enjoy.” He waved her off and worked through some more calculations for fuel needs for the vehicles and how much extra they might need to carry. There were voices as the techs returned from the dining hall. He allowed the sounds to become part of the usual background. It was some time later, it felt like much later, that he heard the voices raise above the usual murmur. He glanced at the clock on his laptop and determined it was the late shift change. He allowed the knowledge to sink to the back of his mind and continued working. He wasn't sure how long the man had been standing in the doorway. Bond was deathly silent when he put his mind to it. There he was, customary coffee mug in hand, much as every other night. 

This time he merely stood, just outside the frame of the door, watching warily. Finally, when nothing had happened for long minutes, he spoke. “Am I welcome?”

Q closed his eyes slowly and then opened them understanding after sitting with it all day, he needed to explain himself. This was the person who had rescued his cat, for heaven's sake, who concerned himself with maintaining Q's position of authority over one of his own friends. He deserved an honest answer. “Please come in and close the door.”

Bond did as asked, seating himself in the visitor's chair and setting the storm trooper mug down on the corner of the desk. “I wasn't sure what to expect. I'm still not sure what happened.”

Q squared himself up in the chair. “What happened is, I took things too far. I seem to have developed an unfortunate physical attraction for you and I don't have much control over it. I reacted, very inappropriately, in the gym. I was embarrassed. That is not your fault but I couldn't immediately deal with it.” He got all that out in one breath and felt a bit lighter for it. 

Bond reached for his coffee, sipped and made an approving noise, and smiled as he replaced the cup. “Why unfortunate?”

Q found himself fidgeting, twisting his fingers together. He knew he had to resolve this now. He owed Bond an answer and it would not do to allow a misunderstanding to affect their necessary interactions. He schooled his voice into a semblance of his usual controlled tone. “It shouldn't be a shock when I say that I'm gay. I've dated men before and during my tenure here. In the midst of the present crisis, I hardly expected for something like this to happen but I seem to have settled my sexual interest on you. I apologize for allowing it to make you uncomfortable. Truthfully, the realization has been a bit of a shock to me as well. I intend to do anything necessary to make certain it doesn't impact our working together. However, due to the closeness required, I would suggest it would be better to assign another agent to supervise my exercise regimen.” He sat back, the silence stretching long enough for Bond to retrieve his cup, sip more coffee and return the cup. 

“I still don't know what is specifically unfortunate,” Bond finally said. When Q frowned and stared, he elaborated. “I think it's safe to say that fraternization rules and HR have no further purpose in our present reality. So the only two people who this should concern are the two of us. And of the two of us, you seem to be the one distressed by the matter.” Q was about to interrupt, and was forestalled by a single raised finger. “Still my turn. I would have been stupid not to know what that reaction in the gym was all about. And if you had let me catch up with you, I'd have told you it was no problem at all.”

“No problem?” Q's voice rose and he was half standing before he clapped a hand over his mouth. Bond, appallingly, just chuckled.

“You're operating under an assumption that I am uninterested. Your techs are a bit more observant. They've been gossiping about us for weeks. The short one with the spiked hair was crushed that we might have quarreled.”

Q looked at the closed door. “I probably should have a talk with them.”

“Might be better all around to just make it the reality, in case you'd like my opinion.” And Q just stared. There was James Bond, the MI6 resident expert on seduction, proposing quite matter of factly that he was interested in a relationship. No smooth lines, no clever flirtation. The sense of unreality was profound. 

Swallowing hard, Q managed a reply. “You want to try it on with me?” Maybe that was right. Bond might just be looking for something new.

Bond actually winced. “Firstly, I had something more serious in mind than 'trying it on'. Suppose I have my own reputation to blame for that one. Secondly, my experience is a lot broader than you might imagine, so I do know my way around men.” Q found himself circling the desk. He couldn't figure out what to do with his hands, finally reaching back to grip the edge of the desk for support. Bond just watched him, all sleek relaxation in a fisherman knit jumper, eventually easing forward in the chair, looking into Q's eyes with that electric gaze that had fascinated Q from their first meeting. He eased effortlessly to his feet, the move controlled and calculated. “It's really not that complicated,” he said, voice low and intimate. “If you want this,” and a finger stroked along Q's jawline, “if you want me,” the softest possible press of lips against skin followed the finger, “all you have to do is say yes.”

Q could feel the heat radiating from the solid body, could smell warm male skin and a hint of the coffee Bond had been drinking. He relinquished the fragile control he'd been maintaining, releasing the rigid grip he had on the desk and allowed one hand to move forward and trace the craggy face, rubbing over almost invisible blonde stubble. Bond smiled, a broad and uncomplicated expression of joy and Q's fingers traced the smiling lips as well. He gasped when Bond brought his own hand up to catch Q's wrist, holding it gently as he kissed each fingertip. A soft hitching moan escaped Q and he would have sagged back against the desk if Bond hadn't wrapped his other arm around to hold him, drawing their bodies together. The evocative purr of voice in his ear set Q's nerves tingling. “I want you. I want to drive you as crazy as you're making me.”

Sliding both arms around Bond's neck, Q buried his nose against the gap at the top of the jumper. He breathed in deeply, trying to inhale the essence of the man. “It feels like I've wanted you forever,” he whispered. He slid his mouth along the sharp line of Bond's jaw, leaving soft open mouthed kisses, losing himself in the closeness and finally sliding his mouth over Bond's. Bond groaned into the contact, opening and teasing at Q's tongue with his own. Q drew back for a quick breath and impatiently tugged his glasses off, letting them clatter to the desk before diving back into the intoxicating kiss. He became aware of firm hands gliding under the back of his shirt, one tracing a shockingly delicate series of patterns up and down his spine and he wanted so much more. He managed to drag his mouth away. “Bond?” he asked, oddly not bothered by how needy he sounded. 

Bond's mouth quirked up in a small smile. “Do you think we might be a bit more informal? I want to hear what my name sounds like from your mouth.” 

Q smiled himself. “James,” he responded, and it felt very good, good enough to share in return. “My name is Matthew but I never liked it much.”

James tilted his head sideways and considered. “I'm used to thinking of you as Q. But thank you for telling me.” The need for conversation seemed less urgent to Q. He was taken up with the sensation of confident touches and kisses that somehow felt so much better than any he could recall. James tugged at his jumper and shirt after a few moments and Q obligingly allowed the garments to be pulled off over his head, diving immediately back to the addictive kisses, making forays under the fisherman's jumper and exploring with sensitive fingers. James' kisses became hotter, demanding and Q gave back as good, loving the freedom he suddenly felt, letting the desire off the leash.

With a sharp nip to Q's lower lip, James pulled back and stripped off his jumper, tossing it in the direction he had already discarded Q's clothing. Grasping Q's wrists, he raised them to his mouth, kissing the pulse points and smiling as he stepped back toward the futon. He let go long enough to release the catches to flatten the surface, sitting down and drawing Q to stand between his knees. He pressed his face into the soft belly skin, rubbing lightly and making Q shiver at the scratch of beard stubble. Q felt the deft touches as his belt was unbuckled and the button and zip on his trousers were dealt with. He hurriedly kicked off his shoes and allowed the remainder of his garments to slide off. Easing a bit forward, he ended with his knees on either side of James' hips. He pressed close, the position putting James' head a little lower than Q's. Stroking his fingers through short blonde hair, Q lowered his mouth, brushing his lips over James' mouth, James humming his pleasure at the scratching of nails over his scalp. James dragged his hands down Q's back, flexing fingers gently into Q's buttocks as Q shifted and thrust in a slow hypnotic rhythm, his erection sliding against hard planes of muscle. It was good but ultimately unsatisfying. 

An abrupt flurry of movement and Q found himself on his back, as James stood, shedding boots and trousers with swift movements. He leaned over Q, hands beside his shoulders, one knee on the mattress and one foot still on the floor. Q let out a long shuddering breath as his lover's heavy body eased down and finally gave him the full skin contact he was craving. He hooked one limber leg over James' hip, locking them together. He felt wildly that he wanted to crawl inside James' skin if that were possible. His frantic movements only ceased when James gathered him even closer and shushed him softly.

It took a moment for Q to attend to what was being said. “Slowly, darling. Ease up. I'll take care of you.” Slowing his desperate panting, Q looked up into James' eyes, bright blue irises almost swallowed by the black of pupils so dilated they seemed endless enough to drown in. The pause continued, James carding the fingers of one hand through Q's hair, sweated and disordered. Slowly he bore down, their erections gliding slickly together. He lowered his head, opening his mouth, sliding his tongue into Q's mouth in the same erotic rhythm. Q felt the swell of heat and pressure, almost unbearable, just from the simple contact of skin and a meeting of mouths. It seemed to go on forever until he pushed up desperately and sobbed his release, the cries swallowed in James' heated kiss. Grabbing for an anchor, he clutched at the broad shoulders. James released his mouth and dropped his head forward, panting wetly into Q's neck as he thrust raggedly a few more times before coming as well. 

They lay sharing breath and space, bodies cooling after the fiery exertion. Predictably, James recovered first, easing up and to the side and taking his weight off Q's body. Q took a bit longer, eventually flailing an arm over the side of the mattress and hooking a finger in the first article of clothing he encountered, his own discarded briefs. He mopped up spilled semen and tossed the briefs back to the floor, turning to tuck himself limpet like into James' embrace. James snagged a foot into the rumpled coverlet at the far end of the futon and managed to draw it over them both. Q wasn't sure what might happen next but when James just breathed quietly against him, he gave into the gradual liquid slide into sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

It was hard to judge time of day in a basically subterranean environment. The hours were marked by more or less light and the level of activity, most people keeping to a diurnal schedule. When Bond opened his eyes, he knew immediately where he was and that it was still early. The noises outside Q's office door were faint and intermittent. Years of training meant he woke with no outward sign for anyone who might be watching. He remained physically relaxed while aware of his surroundings. He felt the weight of the man against him and smiled. Q was still asleep, breathing easy and deep with a slight intermittent buzz that was not quite snoring. He also became aware of another presence, the soft compact shape that was Rosalind, the seesaw thrum of her purring a pleasant undercurrent in the quiet room. She seemed quite unbothered by his intrusion, perhaps feeling he was there to provide for her comfort in the imperious fashion cats always seemed to demonstrate. 

He allowed himself to luxuriate for a bit in the peace, alien to his previous experience of waking with a bed partner. This felt unique in his lifetime. There was no expectation, just a sense of being where he needed to be. Q had been so genuine in his responses last night, so open to everything . Right now he was a lovely sight, relaxed and so very young looking. Q was hardly young and innocent although the illusion was easy to fall prey to. He was a formidable and highly competitive man who had fought his way to his position and had maintained it in the face of obstacles that would have sent a lesser man into a panic. He just seemed to thrive on the work, regularly controlling some of the most dangerous people in the world, Bond himself among them. He recalled the day Alec had turned up, Q calculating odds and juggling risks and handing 006 a clear set of mandates in a voice that allowed no argument. It may have been at that point that Bond had determined he had to do something definite about the attraction he had been keeping under wraps for months. 

There was a deep breath and a gusty sigh from his bedmate followed by a sinuous stretch that flexed every joint. Green eyes looked up at him. “Good morning,” the voice husky with sleep and brow wrinkled in mild confusion. Bond deposited a kiss on the creased forehead. 

“Good morning,” Bond replied. “You slept well.”

Craning his neck a bit above the edge of the blanket, Q looked about the office, everything as it always was. “I don't suppose you have any idea how much of a stir this is going to cause.”

Bond grinned, unrepentant. “I think I have some idea. Considering the general tedium of our current routine, this will the most exciting thing that's likely to happen. Best get used to being the center of attention for a bit.” He considered for a long moment. “Any idea what the betting pools are like?”

Q gave a blank stare and then groaned. “Of course there's a pool. MI6 ran on gossip and betting pools even before all this. My staff are placing bets on my sex life. In what world is that all right?”

Bond nuzzled into Q's neck, happy to enjoy the closeness. “Alec always knows about these things. Maybe I can get something out of him.”

“You are a horrible conniving person, James. That is absolutely a terrible wonderful idea.” Q pondered a bit. “Not much point in the wagers on us getting together. You said a lot of people already thought that was the case.”

“True. But they haven't had any visual confirmation yet. There's bound to be great odds on that. I fancy a serious PDA at the right time and place could be just the thing.”

Q frowned again, one of those expressions Bond had learned indicated serious planning that was going to be trouble for somebody. “It will have to be unexpected. We can't let anything change beforehand if we really want the best result. What did you have in mind exactly?”

Bond settled onto his back and tugged Q over on top of him, rather like a boffin blanket, which was amusing. He tucked the quilt around them both before resuming. “Alec will investigate if I give him a quiet word and then give him some inside knowledge. He'll clean up.”

Q inched up a bit, which lined their hips up beautifully and gave James' morning salute some welcome company and encouragement. They moved together for a bit, exchanging lazy kisses and allowing their hands to wander. James found himself completely taken with odd random things about Q. The man was gloriously lovely but individual small things kept catching his attention. Dark eyelashes sweeping over pale skin, skin increasingly tinged with a rosy blush as Q's arousal grew. The skin on his neck was fully as silken as James had imagined and he was delighted to be allowed to touch and taste. He licked a path down the front of the slender throat, rubbing his nose into the join of the winged collar bones. Q was squirming and his softly gasped breaths were all the encouragement James needed. Such sensitive skin deserved lots of attention. He rolled them over, putting Q under him and moved further down tonguing over a nipple as he very deliberately rubbed his fingers over the other one. Q clutched at his shoulders and seemed torn between throwing James off and pulling him closer. “Like that, Q?” The response was a frantic moan and Q's fingers scrabbling at James' short hair, frustrated in finding any way to gain purchase. James repeated the lick and then blew softly before sucking firmly as Q thumped a hand against his shoulder and let out a series of muttered obscenities. James noted and ignored them since he didn't hear the word 'stop' anywhere in the torrent. 

He eventually moved further down. There were other delights to investigate. He nosed through the trail of dark hair marking Q's mid line, prodding at his navel with a tongue tip and feeling the spasms of the abdominal muscles. He moved on not wanting to risk a ticklish spot right now. Nuzzling at the more lush growth at Q's groin, he ventured to place nipping kisses at the tops of the pale thighs before focusing on his goal. Q's cock was about as perfect as could be imagined. It was firmly erect, perfectly proportioned and a lovely ruddy color. James licked a long stripe up the length and had to put a firm arm over Q's thighs. He glanced up. Q was up on his elbows, face flushed, hair wild and eyes wide and staring. Keeping their eyes locked, James inched himself to the right angle and repeated the motion. Q bit his lip and then dropped his head back as James opened his mouth and slowly and carefully slid his lips down. Crisp hair tickled his nose and he began a steady up and down, sucking on the upstroke and savoring the salt musk of Q's arousal. Q's voice rose in a steady litany of “yesyesyes, please” and James was more than happy to oblige and swirled his tongue in varying patterns. Q was quickly becoming an addiction like no other. He wanted to do this repeatedly just to hear the wonderful noises it elicited. He felt the sudden increase in tension in the muscles and Q's voice dropped to a soft whispered plea and James responded with an increased effort. Q tried to push him off at the last minute but James had worked for this and wasn't having that at all. He sucked harder and the sudden salt sweet flood was swallowed, one or two gentle sucks drawing the last before Q grew too sensitive. 

James rested his head on a frankly bony thigh, watching and feeling the gradual relaxation. Q eventually raised his head, a soft smile lighting his face. “Can I do the same for you or would you like something else?”

James agreeably shifted himself to put his hips and his own neglected erection in reach. Q touched him, a slow careful brush of slender fingers that teased and promised at once. James allowed a softly sighed groan to escape, trusting his pleasure to his partner in a way he rarely did. Q eased himself closer and the faint wash of breath over heated skin preceded the delicate contact of tongue and lips. That mouth had become part of James' fantasies and was every bit as marvelous as his dreams had suggested. Hot and wet and exerting just the right pressure and overwhelming his self control. And the noises! Q was throwing himself into the effort with the most obscenely exciting wet and filthy sounds, slurping and making appreciative little hums and satisfied smacks of his lips when he pulled away for breath only to dive back in with renewed enthusiasm. James gave a half strangled moan as a particularly wicked trick of an agile tongue made him curl his toes. Fuck, that felt amazing! The buildup of pressure that had been slow and liquid abruptly assumed a focused urgency and he grabbed for any semblance of control and found it distressingly out of reach. He came with a hoarse drawn out groan and collapsed back, head partially over the edge of the much abused mattress. 

Eventually, it was the cat that roused them both from their post coital stupor. Rosalind jumped onto an unoccupied corner of the mattress, croaking out a plaintive meow while butting her head into Q's shoulder. He abandoned his gentle petting of James' hip and extricated himself from the bed. “All right, I'm up,” he muttered. He saw to Rosalind's immediate needs, feeding her and changing the water in her bowl. He became aware he was being watched when he turned around. “What's so interesting?” he asked with an attempt at brash confidence.

“The finest arse in MI6,” James responded promptly with a grin, “and it's all mine.”

“Taking a lot for granted, aren't you?” Q grinned, the exchange novel but the tone familiar.

“I take nothing about you for granted.” James' smile faded and his tone seemed more serious. Q flushed and made an effort to appear casual as he gathered up his scattered clothing and hunted up a clean pair of briefs. James eased up to sit on the edge of the mattress. “I mean that. You matter to me more than I would have imagined and with things the way they are now, it seems foolish not to take the risk.”

“Risk?” Q asked, standing half dressed in the center of the room. 

“Yes. The risk that you'd think I was too old or just unreliable. I'm not anyone's idea of a good bet for a partner.”

Q's mind spun trying to reconcile this apparent insecurity with the confident to the point of reckless man. He abandoned the search for the second sock and walked back to the bed. “You are hardly old. You make men half your age look slow. And you are no more of a risk than anyone else I ever dated. Less than most, in fact, as I already know all your bad points. You're a cocky adrenaline junkie. You follow orders but won't tolerate plainly stupid ones. And you are also the most loyal and committed person I have ever met. And, since I am your Quartermaster, it's me who owns your arse and don't you dare forget it.” He leaned over and kissed James fiercely, staking a claim in no uncertain terms and ending with a bite to the solidly muscled shoulder. 

“Ouch,” James protested, not at all convincingly. “Bloody vampire,” he groused with a smile that belied his complaint. “Let's get some breakfast if you're that hungry.”

Bond dressed quickly and made sure the coast was clear before he exited the office. There was only a single tech on duty and they had a set of over sized headphones on and were apparently scanning for shortwave or other signals. Q followed about ten minutes later. It wasn't unusual for him to be up this early. He slipped out of the branch and headed for the dining hall, joining Bond at a small corner table with a cup of tea. A plate appeared in front of him, the server wishing him a good morning. The omelet and canned fruit were exactly to his taste and he plowed through a good third before speaking.

“So, are we public with this?” he asked around a bit of strawberry.

“Absolutely, unless you have a real objection. I had a quick chat with Alec just now. He says the best odds are on us revealing ourselves at one of M's staff meetings. I give him the word and he'll take as much action on that as he can get without raising suspicion.” Bond poured more coffee and stirred in cream.

“What in the world are they even wagering with? I mean currency is worthless.”

“As I understand it, wagers are for favors to be performed or specific in demand goods. Candy is quite a popular item. Alec is specifically angling for several large bottles from the still.” 

Q smacked a fist into his opposite palm. “I knew there had to be a still. Sneaky little gits.”

“Pretend you don't know,” Bond suggested. “Everyone seems quite happy to be supporting a clandestine enterprise and the quality is actually good. Anything for morale.”

“Good for morale? I suppose,” Q agreed after a moment. “But it's still a misuse of departmental equipment and besides, they didn't offer me a cut.”

Bond barked out a a sharp laugh which made the few other people in the dining room turn and look. Once they had turned their attention back to their meals, he spoke quietly. “Quartermaster to bootlegger. I always knew you could be a criminal mastermind if you ever decided to do it.”

Q snorted. “Hardly. I just think I could improve the product And if people are drinking this stuff, there should be safety protocols in place. Maybe I should leave some ideas lying around.” He sipped his coffee. “So about the bet. There's a meeting tomorrow in the boardroom. Tell Alec to take whatever action he can get on that without making anyone suspicious. The meeting starts at nine so we'll be letting the cat out of the bag around 8:45.” He grinned in a decidedly diabolical way. 

In a lesser man, one not used to facing down death every other day, the look on Bond's face might have been called apprehension. “What exactly are you planning on doing?”

The grin widened even more, assuming a mildly manic tinge of glee. “My staff have been making bets on my romantic life behind my back and using the output of a non sanctioned apparatus to fund their endeavors. They deserve to have their little enterprise turned upside down and to learn not to make assumptions. They have no idea who they're really dealing with.”


	11. Chapter 11

“So I got wonderful odds. The boffins were practically rubbing their grabby little hands together. This better work though or I'm going to be owing favors for the rest of my life. Q's little elves drive a hard bargain.” Alec's grumbling was just for form's sake. James knew him too well. 

“Did you have to commit to slave labor, Alec?” Bond was smiling as they hurried down the corridors in the executive branch.

“Guinea pig,” Alec groused. “They want subjects for their test projects. I swear a couple of them want to wire my bollocks up to a car battery while they test my range scores.”

Q was leaning out the board room door, no one else in sight. He checked his watch and waved urgently. “Hurry up,” he hissed, gesturing James to join him. “And you, Trevelyan, wait here and be unobtrusive.”

James found himself dragged inside and the door shut behind him. “Well, are our collected colleagues going to find me ravishing you against the wall?” He slid his arms around Q's waist and nuzzled kisses into his hairline.

“As much as I fancy the idea, I had something else in mind.” Q spun them around and sidled forward until James was leaning against the table. “Lie back.” When James slid himself back along the slickly polished surface, Q scrambled up, straddling his hips and insinuating busy fingers under the edge of Bond's jumper, a soft grey turtleneck today. Bending forward, he whispered against James' lips. “Whoever comes in, just keep kissing me.”

James found that no problem at all. They proceeded to engage in the sort of noisy and messy kissing commonly seen in adolescents. He improvised a bit by reaching to grab Q's lush buttocks. He found they fit his hands perfectly. He was expecting the door opening and ignored it, no hardship when he had Q trying to steal whatever was left of his soul with sucking kisses. He heard a sudden gasp and then a click as a mobile snapped a picture, and then a series. Moneypenny. She knew the phone was essentially useless but she kept it handy out of habit and because she was always taking pictures. Q abandoned his mouth and tugged impatiently at the turtleneck, latching on like a leech and sucking a bruise into the skin. There were two more gasps from the area of the door, and M's voice raised in uncharacteristic fashion. “Good God, is nobody capable of being civilized?!” There was a light laugh from Eve and the door closed. 

Q sat back, straightened his glasses and ran his hands through his disordered hair. “That went well,” he commented mildly. “I suspect the news will be common knowledge within the next thirty minutes, along with embellishments. By the time the news filters through to my branch, it will no doubt be said that we were caught naked and completely in flagrante.” As he spoke he was fussing over his own clothing and adjusting the edge of Bond's jumper so the blooming bruise just peaked over the top. 

Bond was laughing. “I never suspected you were such a little demon. You always seemed so quiet.”

Q snorted. “You didn't know me in uni. I got fucked over a table in the computer science labs. Ed and I forgot about the security cameras and there was a lovely bit of footage on the servers of the pair of us. Very energetic too. I had to delete it of course. After I watched it several times.”

As he finished speaking, Q moved over to the door and opened it to find the entire corridor full of curious faces and Moneypenny showing her phone to Alec who was looking at the screen with a broad grin. He raised his head and gave a thumbs up as the participants filed in to the meeting. M took his seat and glared at both of them but said nothing. Q gazed back placidly, apparently unruffled and confident. Bond was just grinning, smugly keeping track of the way eyes kept drifting to his neck. Tanner seemed very cheerful indeed. Perhaps he had some money on the matter as well. All in all, a highly satisfactory morning, unless you happened to be M trying to keep to the meeting agenda.


	12. Chapter 12

Bond had a class in unarmed self defense to conduct. He made it a point to give Q a quick kiss as he got off the lift at the gym level, much to the interest of the other passengers. Q studiously watched the floor numbers tick by and felt the other people practically vibrating with curiosity. By the time they reached his floor, he had composed his face to it's usual expression and walked into the branch prepared to deal with the expected fall out. He looked over the desks, his staff not meeting his eyes. He strode to his center console, cued up the current projects and prioritized a few smaller items with a view to completing projects sooner. He pretended not to hear the multiple whispered exchanges and the furtive glances at screens obviously being used to exchange messages. Seriously, did they all believe he was blind and deaf? 

He cleared his throat and said, “I am detecting a high level of inattention. Is something the matter?” 

There were several rather chagrined faces turned toward him and a few disconsolate murmurs that there was nothing wrong. He didn't quite smile but he savored the satisfaction of having discovered their little game. Trevelyan picked that moment to enter the room. He strode up to Q's console and gave him a friendly pat on the back. Q was grateful that was all it was. The man had a hand as hard as a cricket bat. 

The stage whisper was audible throughout the area. “Congratulations in order then, are they? M certainly got an eyeful.” He looked around the room. “Aren't you all going to congratulate the Quartermaster on his new relationship?” A voice from the far corner grumbled and Trevelyan's eyes bored into that corner. “What was that? You want proof? Isn't my word good enough? Hmm. Well in that case, photographic evidence may be required.” 

Q interrupted. “Oh, by all means. Ms. Moneypenny forwarded the images to me as well. Allow me.” He hummed and feigned concentration before tapping the command button he had kept cued up. The screen at the front of the bullpen displayed a very nicely framed image, a side view, of James Bond, flat on his back on the conference table in M's office suite. The room was unmistakable and so was the figure on top of the agent. It was Q engaged in an amorous and pleasurable assault on the man under him. There were gasps and murmurs from the techs. Q flicked through several more images. He left the last one up, walked forward hands on hips and studied it, head cocked to one side. “I think I might just use this as my desktop. It is nicely composed and the light falls very well.” Turning to stand under the screen, he faced his subordinates. “You made a capital error in trying to run a game around me. I have no particular objection to the still,” a few gasps punctuated his statement, “but you imagined that I wouldn't find out about it. You have all had sufficient time to observe me to realize I am not an easy man to fool.” He waited, until he was sure he had their full attention. “The still will continue to operate with full safety and health oversight by medical and myself. Amounts dispersed will be regulated to ensure it is not being abused. Surplus is to be kept secured with access by designated employees only.” He surveyed the faces around him. “As for my interaction with James Bond, it is now public knowledge and, as such, should no longer be a subject for public comment. After this,” he gestured one hand at the screen,” it should also be evident that I am not likely to be embarrassed about the matter. Are there any questions?”

The silence stretched a bit before a timid hand reached into the air, for all the world like a primary school child asking permission to go to the loo. Q nodded and the tech asked, “May we congratulate you, Quartermaster?”

“Yes you may.” He spotted a furtive movement at the other side of the room. “But you may not have permission to use the pictures. They are the property of the photographer. She gifted me with a set. If you want to get copies, you'll have to ask Ms. Moneypenny what the going rate is.” Groans arose around them as he and Trevelyan exited the room.


	13. Chapter 13

Much later that evening, Bond made his usual rounds. He stopped to chat with the guards in the main entrance who both congratulated him on his new relationship and on making the biggest stir in the lives of the people here that anyone could imagine. He watched the cameras outside while they spoke, There were more people coming and going outside and some appeared to have set up small tents scattered around the area. “Are they aware of us being in here?” he asked. “Do they ever seem to try and get our attention?”

Burke cocked his head a bit. “I suppose they might know somebody is here. The generators make a bit of vibration and noise and a few of them have set off the countermeasures. But I haven't seen any effort at communicating.”

“It bears watching. They may be planning on waiting us out, not knowing how well we're provisioned. I'll have a word with the other posts.” He continued on his rounds and made it a point to advise the people guarding the entrances to keep a sharp eye out for any outside threats. He arrived in Q branch to find the late shift in residence, the coffee fresh, and a hoarded single serving of chocolate flavored creamer sitting next to his storm trooper mug. He filled the mug and stirred in the treat and proceeded to Q's office. 

Q looked up and then back at his screen, smiling a greeting. Bond simply settled with his coffee on the sofa, Rosalind opening a sleepy eye to assess him before returning to whatever dreams cats had. The minutes passed in a companionable sort of silence. Q eventually completed whatever he was doing and ambled over to sit next to Bond who threw an arm around his shoulders, depositing a soft kiss on his mouth. “Anything interesting on your rounds?” he asked.

“More people outside, not a huge number, but more than we've seen. They haven't tried anything threatening but I told the guards to be a bit more wary.” Bond tapped his fingers on his knee. “Is there a way to get a more overall view of what's happening around us? Any cameras still active that we can tap?”

Q sharpened his gaze a bit. “You're worried.”

“Not precisely worried but I dislike having limited intelligence. There could be any number of people out there with an unknown number of weapons. And there may be roads obstructed. We'll need to know that.”

Q nodded, accepting the wisdom of the statement. “I could look to tap into cameras that had independent power supplies, solar ones possibly. If that fails, we do have drones I can send out. Certainly I will hold a few of those back for when we actually leave. We'll need them to scout ahead. Of course the lead vehicle is a beast. Has armour like a tank and a bladed arrangement in front rather like a heavy duty snowplow and a hook at the rear for shifting wreckage.”

Bond gave a low chuckle. “You may want to add a flame thrower. Alec has expressed a decided wish to man the first vehicle. And he does have a thing for fires and explosions.”

Q snuggled in a bit closer and muttered, “Trevelyan is a toddler with a penchant for the most destructive toys. But I'll see what I can do. Don't suppose he'd settle for a grenade launcher?”

“Knowing him, he'll try to convince you to give him both. Might be best just to humor him. Now, can we stop talking shop and get naked?”

Q gave him a half hearted admonitory glare. “You might put a bit more effort into it. That doesn't even qualify as a line. Tsk tsk, James. You will have to do better.”

James wiggled his fingers over Q's middle in mock threat. “I could tickle you until you give in.”

“Blunt statements and threats,” Q sighed. “The romance is gone so quickly.”

James crossed his arms and frowned. “Well, now that you've challenged me, I guess I had better pull out all the stops. Hope you're ready for this.” There was nothing like a challenge to get James' blood up, that and the mere presence of the man next to him. He had been anticipating this all day after the surreal scene in the conference room, Q a teasing and tantalizing imp taunting everyone with his confident display of their relationship. The episode had left James with a low throb of erotic tension throughout the rest of his day, underlying every other interaction and conversation. And the looks he had gotten had only added to it. It seemed as if everyone he saw eyed him with a speculative curiosity, inevitably sneaking a glance to the bruise on his neck. It filled him with a certain smug satisfaction that he had managed to break through the normal reserve of the Quartermaster. Although he rather suspected that the reserved posture was an assumed one, that the real man under the unruffled exterior was as much a risk taker as he was. 

Q was looking at him curiously and Bond realize he had been sitting here quietly musing for several minutes at least. He cupped a palm around Q's face, thumb rubbing lightly over the sharp angle of the jaw and fingers sunk into tangle of dark hair. Q leaned into the hand, a sensual enjoyment of the touch. The kiss that followed was gentle, echoing their first, relearning the territory of each other's mouths and acknowledging the slow burn they'd been feeling all day. James slid his mouth around to Q's ear, licking lightly at the delicate curves and tasting the elegant neck. Q shivered and stretched, leaving more skin available. James teased buttons open, one at a time, and treated every bit of newly exposed skin to a thorough exploration. Q began to make his own inroads, trying to insinuate his fingers under the edge of the grey jumper. James obligingly leaned back long enough to lift it over his head before returning to his delightful task of mapping Q one square centimeter at a time. He was aware of Q's fingers making forays over his own skin, tracing the lines and scars, undoubtedly decoding each one and matching it to his file full of service incurred injuries. The fingers fluttered to a halt as James got the last of the buttons undone and pushed the shirt out of the way. He ran his hands carefully over the exposed pale skin, following with his mouth. He found himself at a place just under Q's ribs, a place he had been warned was ticklish, and tried an experimental lick there. Far from an attempt to push him away, Q grabbed at him and let out a shivering moan. James smiled. He knew that areas normally regarded as ticklish were highly erotic when a person was aroused. He shifted a bit and eased Q to lie back as he ran light fingers down his mid line and eased his trousers open. Q obligingly lifted his hips for them to be removed and eventually just lay back, apparently perfectly happy to lie there naked and be pampered with the amorous attention.

“Hedonist,” James muttered in a mock accusatory tone. “You're as bad as your cat.”

“Less comment and more kisses,” Q quickly responded, a fond smile taking the sting from the words as he folded up his glasses, placing them carefully out of reach.

Deciding it might be better to deal with all the clothes at once, Bond quickly skinned out of his own and helped Q get his arm out of the one sleeve that had become twisted, settling back down, his mouth resuming it's meandering path over quivering muscles and warm flushed skin. He knew he was leaving a few marks of his own, particularly proud of the one blooming on the inside of Q's left hip. He nuzzled into the crease of the left thigh and felt Q clutch at his shoulder, fingers flexing as his muscles tensed under James' mouth. He felt the change in that tension as he ignored the very erect cock and placed a trail of nibbles and kisses down the inside of Q's thighs. 

“James, fuck, what are you doing?” The desperation in the voice was music to Bond's ears.

“I'm giving you the attention you deserve. Now hush,” He punctuated that with a mild nip at the inside of Q's right knee before tugging at his hip. “Over,” he insisted, settling his grumbling lover on his stomach and running firm hands up the skin made available, from thighs and up to shoulders and then trailing down very lightly in the opposite direction. He stretched over the slender form, admiring the lines of shoulders and back. Q was strong for his size, not muscled the way agents had to be, but flexible and resilient. He kissed over the shoulders and began a very gradual descent down the middle of Q's back. Q couldn't seem to be still now. He wriggled and gasped out pleas for more. James was pleased to oblige, but at his own pace. The perfect curve of Q's arse was a feast for the senses. The skin seemed more silken than elsewhere and James drew patterns with his tongue, moving side to side randomly until Q began to thrust raggedly into the mattress. James nipped sharply to get his attention. Q froze, breathing ragged and sweat slicking him. “That's better,” James crooned, resuming his attentions. He wondered briefly if Q had ever had someone do this to him before. He gave a mental shrug and used his hands to delicately spread the round cheeks. He blew lightly across the opening and Q made a soft breathy sound but he remained still, held in suspense. James licked a long swath over and around and the sound and the reactions were well worth the effort to get here. Q screamed, James was sure the techs outside must be hearing it. He repeated the movement, poking the tip of his tongue a bit forward. Q whined this time, actually whined and thrust twice more at the mattress before subsiding bonelessly. James waited a few moments but Q's back just moved in a steady relaxed pattern of breathing. James leaned forward. The man was asleep or passed out. Well that was a first. He stretched out next to him and waited, watching the relaxed sprawl. 

It took about five minutes for Q to blink his eyes open. It took another few seconds for his brain to catch up. Then he blushed clear up to his hairline. “I'm sorry, That was awful of me to just...” he stammered out the apology. 

“What, for appreciating my talents?” James wrapped his arms around Q's shoulders and tucked the tousled head under his chin. “I would guess no one has done that for you.”

“No, I was always fairly commonplace I guess in what I did in bed. I suppose I thought it might be unpleasant.” He sounded very much in need of reassurance.

“It's just another way to pleasure. And yes, not something I've done very often. And no, it isn't unpleasant with someone who I want very much to please.”

“I still feel a bit guilty. I passed out and left you hanging. It is a bit selfish.”

Bond smiled fondly and kissed the top of Q's head. “We'll get around to me in a bit. This is nice. I don't recall the last time I had a chance to just relax in bed with someone. One of the drawbacks of the job, lot's of sex, no intimacy.” 

The quiet lasted until Q began to move, sliding down the bed and nudging at James' cock and licking delicately along it. 

James rearranged himself to give easier access and hissed his breath out sharply as Q swallowed him down impossibly far, driving his arousal back to it's prior urgency. And he had obviously been holding himself on the leash for too long. Abruptly, with only a few moments of Q's attention, he was hurtling to a climax. He had a brief thought to warn Q, tugging a little at the overlong hair. Q shook him off and sucked harder and James gave in, the slow pulses draining him and leaving him as relaxed as he could ever remember being. Eventually they both stirred enough to brush teeth and rearrange the blankets to be comfortable. James tugged Q's body around, draping his own arms and legs over and around him, cocooning them under the bedding. He buried his nose in Q's hair and smiled. It was very easy to get used to this.


	14. Chapter 14

Waking the following morning, Q found himself draped over and around James' large, warm body. James was already awake, blue eyes slightly sleepy but watching Q with an affectionate smile curving his mouth. “Breakfast or another round?” he asked. 

Q gave a soft groan. “I'd love both actually but we do still have work." He levered himself out of the bed and ambled to the sink in the corner, brushing his teeth and feeding Rosalind who had been eying her distressingly empty food bowl. He petted her and gathered up his clothes. “I hope the shower isn't crowded. I really don't want to deal with stares.”

Bond shrugged. “Just stare back. You have an excellent glare when you choose to use it.” 

Q sniffed in his direction, gazing at the confident naked sprawl. “You might want to move it along a bit,” he chided. “They have waffles this morning and Alec may clean them out before we get there.”

Quickly hauling his clothes back on, James gave Q a quick promising kiss. “I'll grab my clean things and shower in the gym. Meet you in the dining hall.” He exited quickly and Q trailed more slowly. He was relieved when no one so much as glanced his way as he headed along the corridor to the showers. Of course his minions, as the agents insisted on calling his staff, were still a bit subdued after yesterday's revelations. Whatever the reason, he made it to the showers without a word or a noticeable glance. Two of the stalls were occupied but his preferred one was, luckily, vacant. He wasted no time in getting out of his old clothes and under the hot water. He scrubbed efficiently and rinsed and then, wrapped in a towel, headed back to the bench where his clean clothes and shower bag rested. Neither of the other occupants said anything but a brief good morning, both leaving before Q was finished shaving. He wasn't sure whether he should be grateful or not. He didn't really want to hear any shite about Bond and himself but it was a bit anticlimactic that no one had even acknowledged it after the announcement he had made. 

He dropped his things off in his office and, arriving in the dining hall, found James at his accustomed table. Procuring a freshly made waffle, Q settled himself opposite, finding tea already waiting for him. He sliced a neat precise corner off his waffle and chewed blissfully for a moment before glancing around at their fellow diners. The atmosphere seemed rather subdued. He looked at Bond with an eyebrow raised.

“Something happened overnight.” Bond kept his voice low and leaned forward. “We almost lost someone, one of the finance assistants. Apparent suicide. She's in medical. She left a note that she was overwhelmed and couldn't reconcile her survival with the deaths of so many outside.”

Q sighed heavily. “Saunders, M and I spoke about this early on. We knew some might not be able to handle the situation, even with the help available. Any idea what her prognosis is?”

Bond finished the last of his waffle and looked pointedly at Q's plate which was still mostly untouched. When he had resumed eating, Bond answered. “My morning update says she will physically be all right and psych will be giving her intensive therapy. Saunders has altered the policies. Anyone who uses sleeping aids will be receiving no more than a three day supply at a time. Any medication that might be misused is going to be under much tighter control. M apparently plans on a general meeting to discuss the matter and encourage anyone feeling the pressure to avail themselves of the help provided. 

They were both almost done with their breakfast when Alec appeared, holding aloft a plate piled with three of the enormous waffles and a full carafe of coffee. “Heard the news?” he asked as he tucked into his food.

“We did,” Bond replied. “We were just talking about it.”

Alec washed down a mouthful of food with coffee. “It was inevitable someone would try. But I'm more concerned with the external threat. Hasting just told me that he thinks the gangs outside are testing our defenses, taking shots at the doors and trying to damage the cameras. I'd be very pleased to take a sniper rifle up to the roof and teach them a lesson.”

Q shook his head. “Too much risk. We're better off keeping them guessing. They may suspect we're here but they don't know it. Everything they run up against is automated. I have a feeling they would be a lot more determined if they knew for a fact there were people inside.”

Alec just shrugged and continued eating. “Keep the offer in mind if you need something done.” He poured another cup of coffee as Q and James headed off to their respective day's work.


	15. Chapter 15

“You do realize that we can't actually block every suicide attempt?” Dr. Saunders queried as she helped herself to a pastry and settled at the table. “We can limit access to pharmaceuticals to prevent overdoses and step up counseling sessions but ultimately a truly determined individual will find a means.”

M nodded soberly. “I realize you are making every effort in this matter. I also realize the highest risk may be to the individuals in the departments that have no ongoing mission. And we are already putting in a huge effort to retrain those people in skills that will be essential to our new life.”

Saunders turned her cup in her hands. “It's never been easy to deal with this issue. The one good thing is that the attempt will give us a way to bring the matter up for discussion. Our best chance may be having people watching and supporting those they immediately interact with. And we are having talks with anyone who comes into medical for another reason. Let's face it, even getting out of here isn't going to be a complete solution.”

M nodded. “I am also concerned about potential for interpersonal violence. Admittedly, we've been fortunate so far. But small irritations may be magnified in our current circumstances.”

Saunders nodded. “We're keeping an eye out for issues. Again, it's difficult to act preemptively but I believe the agents we have on guard positions are equipped to step in and defuse any issues. All residents can always contact the nearest post if tempers seem to be flaring.”

“What about the agents? How are they reacting with their level of activity being so restricted?” M scanned the conference table, seeking input from the people gathered around it. 

“Frankly, sir,” Bond spoke up, “the general pattern of our careers has prepared us for this. We've had to learn to deal with long periods of downtime. It feels normal to us, oddly enough. We're here to provide physical protection of our personnel and resources, and the other duties with training the non agent personnel are keeping everyone fairly sharp. It's somehow a relief to be working and not being shot at.”

Tanner hid a smile. “I am sure it's a novel sensation for you, 007.”

M tapped his fingers against the table. “Is it possible to increase internal surveillance?” 

Q and Saunders both shook their heads. Q was the one who replied. “I have cameras and microphones in key public areas but the doctor and I have agreed that more observation might have a negative effect, especially in these confined spaces.”

M nodded and looked at his folded hands. “How are things outside? What I have seen from the monitors is appalling.”

Q responded to that one. “I was discussing that with 007 and 006 this morning, sir. Individuals and small groups continue to randomly show up outside. I don't believe anyone suspects we are here. We are not the only automated structure in the vicinity and the only interactions are with the automated countermeasures, mostly strong shocks and pepper spray deployed when they get too close to doors and such. I plan to send up drones to evaluate potential routes of egress but I want to be certain their origin won't be seen and lead anyone here with deliberate intent.”

M pondered that for a moment and nodded in tired approval. “That seems to cover everything for the moment then. Thank you all for your continued efforts.”


	16. Chapter 16

Things settled into a rhythm. Life was marked by birthdays and other events, anything for a celebration. True to his plan, Q sent up drones at irregular intervals, finding a relatively large gathering of people in a mixed residential and commercial neighborhood several blocks away. The drone made several passes before small arms fire brought it down. Q marked the area as one to avoid in their eventual exodus. But before it was destroyed, he got a lot of valuable data on which roads were open and which were blocked. 

One evening, James was later in his rounds than he usually was. He had stopped to talk with Tanner in medical, the man's younger daughter having just had her tonsils removed. Tanner was sitting at the child's bedside, half asleep himself and was grateful for the gift Bond passed him, a packet of chocolate biscuits for when young Beth was up to eating again.

He made his customary stop for his coffee and tapped lightly at Q's office door. When there was no response, he entered. Q was sitting up in blankets on the flattened futon. Rosalind lying on his lap. He was sniffling, tears rolling down his face and falling quietly onto the cat's fur. She was unmoving and there was no rattling purr that was the usual sound to accompany lap time. James advanced, set his coffee down and pulled Q against him, Rosalind was still a faintly warm although already stiffening a bit. Q's voice, hoarse from crying, whispered, “I woke up from a nap and she was just gone. I know she was old but she didn't seem ill.” He stroked her fur and wiped his eyes roughly. “It's stupid to be this upset over a cat but...”

James kissed the rest of it away, tasting salt tears and covering Q's hand where it rested on Rosalind's still form. “You can be upset. She was with you a long time. And she seems to have gone peacefully if that helps at all.”

Q's hitched sobs finally lessened and he laid the little body on the bed to go wash his face. He turned and looked down at her again. “I don't know what to do with her,” his reddened eyes looking to James. “I mean I had her sister cremated. The vet took care of it for me. I wish I had thought to request the ashes back.”

James stood up and wrapped his arms around Q. “Trust me. I think I can do the right thing for both of you.” He kissed the top of Q's head and motioned to Rosalind. “Give her to me and I promise I'll take care of her.” Q leaned down and placed a kiss on the little furry head, right between her ears and gathered her up to pass to James. He bit his lip as fresh tears welled and turned away as James left the room, Rosalind wrapped in a small blanket. He headed to medical and woke Saunders who was sleeping in her own office. 

“Oh dear,” she said when she saw what he held. “Poor Q. He adored her.”

Bond felt an unaccustomed prickle at the back of his own eyes. “You have a furnace for medical specimens and biohazard stuff, correct?” At her nod, he continued. “Can it accommodate a cremation for Q's old friend? I intend to recover some of the remains and allow him some way to keep them.”

Saunders nodded again. “Wait a tick.” She grabbed a surgical scissors and snipped off some fur and put it in an envelope. “Take this as well. My vet did that for me when my dog passed.” Bond accepted the envelope and released Rosalind to the doctor. “Go back to him. I can do this and let you know when you can have the remains.”

Grateful to be released to be where he needed to be, Bond hurried back to Q branch. Q was curled on his side, and James stripped out of his clothes and slid in behind him, wrapping him as close as possible, grateful when the now quiet crying eased off into exhausted sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

Q began to adjust to the loss. Grief would hit him sharply at some moments, but those became fewer and James had been utterly patient, asking Q carefully if he wanted the food bowl and other reminders removed. His branch members helped, making sure minor annoyances were dealt with before they needed to be bumped up to the boss. At the end of the week, he found himself laughing at Alec's resounding defeat in the chess tournament and resultant sulks. He had been eliminated by Tanner who proved to be a devious player. He returned from the dining hall after the match with a residual smile on his face. 

James came out of the armory as Q was passing it on the way to R and D. He grabbed at James' wrist and tugged him to the side of the corridor for a quick kiss, continuing down the tunnel afterward. “I thought you might have come to see Alec get trounced by Tanner,” Q commented. “It was quite the spectacle.”

“I had something more important to do,” James replied with a cryptic smile. “And I have to head up to the gym in a minute. Meet me for supper?” He gave Q another quick kiss and headed off at the next junction. Q continued on his day, the brief encounter lifting his spirits as James patently intended. The rest of his day was the routine that had become normal. He decided to shower before supper and found himself waiting for James for a change. The meal tonight was vegetable lasagna which was a favorite so the room was relatively full. James sauntered in, his new uniform of heavy jumper and denims neat and utterly eye catching. He grinned and slid a hand lightly over the back of Q's neck before grabbing servings of the food for both of them. 

They chatted about the chess tournament and other incidental matters, enjoying the food and exchanging light touches that Q found grounding. Other diners exchanged greetings with them but didn't intrude on their bubble of privacy. Their people had learned to value and respect such moments.

Feeling a need to walk off some of the meal, Q following James on his rounds, seeing the interior of their community through his eyes and greeting the people that were a critical part of the security of the little community they were trying to keep going. They ended up back in Q's office. He was still involuntarily gazing at the sofa when he entered but it no longer hurt so much to see an empty space. He sipped the tea he had poured while James had gotten his usual coffee. James touched his shoulder lightly and he turned with a smile to see something dangling from James' fingers, a Lapua cartridge, with a chain run through a hole bored in the top, and every surface shined to a brilliant finish. Q frowned but took the thing and turned it carefully, finding it was inscribed in careful script letters, 'Rosalind'. He frowned and looked at James for an explanation. 

“I had her cremated and I remembered what you said about her sister. I had some of her ashes and a bit of fur sealed inside. She was important to you. Now she goes where you go.” James looked at him, his expression a little hesitant, as if he were unsure whether the gift was the right thing. Q felt the tears begin again, not the bitter grieving ones but somehow happy. He quickly looped the chain over his head and grabbed James, kissing him fiercely. He leaned back in the solid embrace and smiled. “Thank you for thinking to do this. It's perfect. It hurt to think I might have to leave her here. She was special.” 

Reassured, James grinned and squeezed Q until he let out an undignified squeak. James chuckled softly and loosened the grip only a little, nosing at Q's neck where the fine chain glinted on pale skin. Q felt the gentle brush of lips and smiled against James' shoulder. James reached back and hit the lock on the door and Q stepped toward the bed and bean to strip out of his clothing, the cartridge casing reflecting the light as it swung in a slow hypnotic arc. Considering it might be safer, he slipped the chain off and hooked it on a shelf above the bed where he could see it easily. He turned to see James had shed his clothing as well, approaching the bed with that graceful prowl of his. Q tilted his head and resumed the kisses, letting his hands wander over the now familiar planes and angles of James' body. He followed the paths his hands made with more kisses and a gently carressing tongue, pleased when James seemed content to just encourage his explorations. Q mouthed at a nipple and hummed at the feel of blunt fingers gripping his hip, the other hand carding through his hair and rubbing tenderly at his scalp. He savored the taste of his lover and the rising excitement between them. He only grew more aroused as he mapped James' body and was rewarded with soft grunts and whispered endearments. Sinking to one knee, he lapped at the head of James' cock, smiling at the sudden hiss of an indrawn breath and the increased tension under his hands. He was reluctant when James tugged him to his feet, James reaching one hand down to stroke Q's cock with slow, intent movements, looking straight into his eyes. 

“Want you to fuck me,” James grated out. “I want you to slick this lovely prick up and fuck me until we're both exhausted.” Q felt his nerves sing and his erection jerked in the now familiar grasp. James reached behind him to his discarded clothes and pressed a condom and a small packet of lube into Q's palm. He cupped Q's face in his hands and kissed him slowly and thoroughly before sliding around him and stretching out on the bed, guiding Q down between his spread thighs and pulling his head forward for another kiss. 

“You have done this before?” Q whispered. 

James gave a luxuriant stretch. “Of course. Not often, but enough to know what I want. And what I want right now is you to put that stuff to good use.” He pointed at the items in Q's hand and palmed his own erection with every appearance of lazy confidence. 

Q nudged at one heavy thigh and James obliged by crooking the knee outward so Q could work. Q coated a finger with the lube and grabbed James' hand, replacing it with his own, grasping James' cock and stroking slowly as he eased his other hand back, circling the puckered muscle and smiling at the ease with which his finger slid in. James closed his eyes and breathed deep and slow and shifted down, swallowing the slender digit all the way, Q rotating and stroking the smooth walls and adding more lube. James' cock was oozing pre come and Q leaned over, licking up a drop and smiling at James slyly as the blue eyes darkened even more. 

“Tease,” he accused. “I told you what I wanted.”

“I'm getting there,” Q replied almost primly. He had no intention of rushing. He pressed in a second finger and more lube, spreading it thoroughly before rolling the condom over his own cock and slathering even more lube on it. James watched the process, drawing his legs up and resting them on Q's shoulder in a display of easy flexibility. Q angled his cock with one hand and gripped the back of a solid thigh with the other, pressing forward slowly, watching James' face for signs of discomfort. He paused several times, waiting for James' body to catch up and eventually was fully seated. He began to move in gradual increments, picking up speed when James pushed back, the pair of them finding a rhythm that worked for both. James brought his hand back to his own cock, picking up a more rapid pace and writhing against Q as their sweated skin eased the motions. Q watched the rapid strokes of James' hand and the rising flush on his skin and sped his own pace, wanting to come first. He managed a bit more effort, deep solid thrusts that rocked them both, before feeling the overwhelming pressure and his hips stuttered as he came, James following him a few moments later, coming in heavy spurts, muscles grabbing at Q's sensitive softening cock and making him groan as he slid free, discarding the tied off condom and collapsing.

James gave a grumbling sigh. “That was amazing, but I have to say we seem to have made the same mistake again.” Q tilted his face up to blink hazily. “We never seem to remember that a nice towel by the bedside is a good idea.”

Q scowled. “Speak for yourself.” He snaked an arm under the edge of the wooden frame and dragged out a box of baby wipes, plunking it down on James's chest. He tugged a handful of the softly scented wipes out and cleaned James up, taking good care to mop up the excess lube. He reflected he may have overdone that a bit but he much preferred to use more to start with. “Anything hurt?” he asked. He was fairly sure everything was fine but he needed the confirmation.

“Not a thing,” James replied. “You're very good at that.” 

Q struggled to haul the blankets out from under James and over the pair of them. “Well, next time you can do the hard work. Now stop squirming so I can get some sleep. I don't like it when my pillow moves so much.” Q dropped his head on James' shoulder and closed his eyes. The last thing he was aware of was James kissing the top of his head.


	18. Chapter 18

Weeks passed and the weather outside became colder. Fog and rain made no difference inside but medical and Q branch kept close tabs on the exterior cameras. Saunders, Q and Bond came to M one December afternoon. Saunders wasted no time in presenting the issue. “We've seen no diseased individuals for at least 6 weeks. We think it might be time to move.”

Q made his point. “It would be best to take advantage of the window before we're likely to encounter potential snow on the route. And the vehicles are all kitted out. The cameras we've been able to access in addition to our own show several encampments in the general vicinity. They appear to be raiding for supplies and battling each other. Multiple deaths have resulted from these interactions. Presumably, more people will be drawn to these gangs and the conflicts will escalate. I think we'd be wise to get out soon before they begin to combine resources. I've mapped out a potential route to the M40. Our fleet is tough enough to manage the motorway. The big concern is getting out of London. Some of the gangs have motorcycles. They will likely try and follow us some distance. I believe the best course is to make sure we have agents spread out among all the vehicles. It may come down to a firefight. If that is the case, we do have the advantage in trained marksman and superior equipment but we will also be protecting a large number of people, including children, with no combat experience.”

Bond leaned forward, hands clasped on the table. “I already have drivers and snipers paired up. Alec is going to be on the point vehicle. It's the most formidable. I thought you might fancy the driver's seat for that one, sir.” M gave a grim smile and a nod, and Bond continued. “The route on the M40 normally took about 2 or 3 hours to Beeston. I anticipate at least a full day to deal with potential obstructions and detours but I think we need to avoid any long pauses anywhere. We'll plan to move directly to the power plant and secure that with everyone inside while we get the generators going.”

“Sound plan,” M commented. “When exactly do we move?”

Q answered. “Within the week. We'll stock and prep the vehicles over the next few days and wait for a clear day. We don't need to be fighting the weather. We roll out through the tunnel entrance and keep going.”

Bond interjected again. “Q, Dr. Saunders and I have agreed that we'll post a list today of what vehicles everyone is assigned to and have them pack up and stow their personal gear. Medical supplies, food, ammunition and such will be distributed among all vehicles. Every group will have survival necessities if they get separated.” 

“What about the complex?” M asked.

Q answered. “I recommend we lock up behind us and leave the automation running. We don't know if we might need to return here. We're taking every weapon and case of ammo we have stocked but it would be unpleasant if the gangs we have seen gained access here and we had to evict them in future.”

“Good thinking,” M said. “I suggest we all get about our tasks. I suppose I should have a chat with Mr. Trevelyan.”


	19. Chapter 19

M made a general announcement in the dining hall with Q branch ensuring it was broadcast throughout the complex. There were a few questions but, for the most part, people just began packing up their stuff and checked the posted lists for their assigned vehicle. 

Trevelyan spent hours poking around the lead transport. Mallory joined him and the pair requested adjustments to the storage for spare weapons and ammo. The pair of them circling the vehicle, heads bent together, looked like they had worked in the field for years as a team. They had developed an uncanny rapport unlike one of the other driver teams that had to be broken up immediately and assigned to separate vehicles entirely. 

Q had placed himself and Bond in the last vehicle, wanting to be able to view the entire caravan and move up to assist anyone having difficulty. He and Bond followed M and Trevelyan's model, spending time physically in the driver's compartment and getting familiar with the movements they would need to coordinate. He found himself fidgeting at first with the body armour and Bond silently made a few adjustments to the straps and it felt immediately better. Bond went back to checking the heavy rifle and the tactical shotguns racked on the passenger side and the belt ammo for the 50 cal Q had mounted in a low profile roof turret. 

The third day after the announcement, the morning dawned clear and chilly and everyone answered the announcements and moved to their assigned spaces. The civilians, if anyone could still be called a civilian now, quietly followed instructions and fastened the harnesses the seats were equipped with after stowing and securing last minute belongings. Alec was humming and grinning broadly as he checked his vehicle, patting the mounted grenade launcher and placing a meaty hand on Mallory's shoulder as the man walked up dressed in military fatigues that had seen some serious wear and suited him as well as his office attire ever had. 

Q was checking off names and locking down hatches when Bond slid up behind him, heavy leather boots making him no less silent and full camo gear and body armour in place. He had a ballistics helmet and goggles looped over an arm and leaned one booted foot on the fender to fasten the straps on the thigh holster that held a Glock 17. He had two Walthers stashed on him somewhere but had decided the stopping power of the Glock made it a better first choice. Q blinked once or twice and shook off the distraction. He slid into his driver's seat, fastened the harness and pulled on his own helmet, keying the microphone to request a check in. Once everyone had acknowledged in line order, he said, “I'm opening the doors. Vehicle One, lead out when you're ready and everyone else follow in your assigned place.”

The doors rose slowly as the engines growled in the confined space. The lead transport rolled forward and the others followed in a slow climb up the ramps to the street level and out the heavy exterior gates. By the time Q had cleared the door and tripped the controls to lower it, the first vehicles were moving out and picking up a bit of speed. As intended, small obstructions were pushed out of the way by the armoured prow of the leader. They must have drawn attention quickly because, by the time the fourth transport had reached the third major intersection, there were individuals on buildings and walls tossing debris and firing small arms. Reports went back and forth of how many attackers there were, initially small groups easily scattered by the sharp reflexes of the marksmen in the vehicles. Most of the trucks had three additional people besides the driver's partner who were set up to fire from ports in the side and rear of the vehicles. 

They had made their gradual way to the ramps for the M40 when the matter became more serious. This time the attackers swarmed them, scores of them on motorcycles, darting in close, the rider on the back firing and then retreating. They went for tyres or windows but did little damage but sooner or later, a lucky shot might find a target. Coming down a slope, Q could see Mallory and Trevelyan's truck barrelling ahead, grenades taking out multiple attackers and M scattering and crushing several with the armoured shield in front. 

The others in the line were spraying automatic fire to keep the attackers away. A fresh swarm focused on Q's vehicle, apparently intending to separate it from the line. He slammed the wheel right and then left as James aimed out the side port, firing steadily, exhausting several magazines in quick order. The tires rumbled as he took the ramp sharply, the motorway rolling out in front. It now seemed as if every one of the attackers were joining forces. The transports were never going to out run the bikes. Q heard the clank of the turret unlocking as James climbed the step to reach the 50 cal. One of the techs slid forward and helped feed the belts as Bond swung the beast in deadly arcs, the howl of the firing occasionally punctuated by the whump of a grenade from the front of the column. The radio input confirmed all the vehicles were still moving and fending off the attack. He had no idea if there were injuries and no time to worry about it. 

There was a flash of movement to the right and Q slammed the vehicle over hard, hearing screams from riders and squeals of damaged metal. The bikers fell away, all but the one who had managed to jump over and cling to the bonnet, staring with wild eyes through the grating protecting the windscreen and aiming a sawed off shotgun at Q. Staring straight back, Q slammed a foot on the brake and then accelerated sharply. The attacker flew off the bonnet and there was a sickening crunch as the heavy tyres rolled inexorably forward. 

Bond made a few more sweeps and the remnants of the mob fell away. They drove for another 10 kilometers before Q called a halt for a short rest. His rear view screen had a few cracks but was still functional enough. There was no visible pursuit. One at a time the vehicles slowed and stopped, pulled up on a stretch of median with clear views all around. All the vehicles had minor damage. There were four injuries beyond bumps and bruises. The most serious was a driver who had taken a bullet and had her replacement take over. The wound was bloody but not life threatening. They had been more than lucky. Weapons were reloaded and everyone grabbed water or food and breathed. Q climbed up on the roof and scanned ahead with binoculars. Bond climbed up immediately behind him and, without looking, Q knew what he was doing. He was scanning for threats to Q closer in. Ahead, Q could see a few pileups but there were ways around all but one. That might require a little work with the tow hook and maybe some explosives. He preferred the former since it would be less attention grabbing. 

Letting himself back into his seat, he radioed ahead. “M, mostly clear ahead. Proceed when ready.” As he waited for the rest of the caravan to move and the engine idled smoothly, Q felt a familiar touch to his neck. He tilted his head back and drew James down for a kiss. “Nice driving,” James said in a voice pitched just for Q.

“Very nice shooting,” Q replied just as quietly, dropping the vehicle into gear and following the rest.


	20. Chapter 20

They followed the motorway, clearing wrecks as they needed to and detouring only when necessary. They made two more stops during the day, both times finding petrol stations that they could refuel at without dipping into the extra they carried, Q branch using a portable pump to fill the tanks. Q used the opportunity to send up a drone, scanning ahead for trouble. As they were finishing the fueling at the second stop, a figure appeared at the edge of the apron surrounding the pumps. He was about 30 at a guess, medium height and build and wearing a heavy parka and had his hands up. “Don't suppose you have any food to trade,” he said. “I'm a decent mechanic and can work for my keep.”

Mallory gestured him over and Bond approached him. He motioned the man to turn and patted him down, removing a knife and some shotgun shells. The man jerked his head at the service station office. “I left the gun there. Seemed safest since there's so many of you.”

“You're alone?” Mallory asked.

The man nodded. “Since about a month in. I was a mechanic here. My boss went home ill and never came back. I'd no family so I holed up here. I stayed out of sight mostly. Some of the ones coming through here seemed pretty rough. You lot have families and seem like you know what you're doing. Thought I might risk it. My name's Kenneth Cooper.”

Q approached a bit closer. “Mr. Cooper. You say you're a mechanic?”

Sensing a bit more welcome, Kenneth lowered his arms carefully. “I work on most any vehicles. Anything from sports cars to big transport lorries. Diesel, petrol, whatever. Mind, I don't much like these finicky new hybrids but I learned them as well.” 

While they were talking, someone handed Kenneth a sandwich which he seemed to devour in about three bites. He accepted a second and a bottle of water and consumed those more slowly. Q, Bond, and Mallory took a few steps away. 

Bond asked the question. “Do we take him along?”

Q eyed the man thoughtfully. “We did say we would eventually want to add more people and he is skilled.”

Mallory interjected. “We don't know that. It's just his word.”

Surprisingly Bond was the one to contest that. “It's not likely we can get references. Beside, if he intended harm he could have taken shots at us from cover.” Bond glanced over his shoulder where Kenneth was sitting wearily on the platform for the fuel pumps. “Have some of our techs vet his skills as we go.”

Q and Mallory nodded agreement and they returned to Kenneth. “Do you know anything about Beeston?” Q asked.

Kenneth perked up a bit. “Good fishing there. Went with a couple of mates. Got a neat power plant there.” He frowned then smiled. “You heading there?”

Q nodded. “We are and so are you if you want to go.”

Kenneth heaved a huge sigh. “I never thought I'd be so glad to see people again. And thanks, of course I'll go.”

They found him a space in one of the vehicles and got everyone on the move again. Someone had cued up a playlist on the radio and they rolled along with speakers playing tunes everyone seemed know, or at least thought they knew. Q winced at the way some of the lyrics were mangled but he bobbed his head unconsciously like everyone else to Bohemian Rhapsody.


	21. Chapter 21

The signs for Beeston began appearing in the late afternoon, the sun slanting low across the road. The caravan had encountered a few more hostile elements but not in sufficient numbers to be really dangerous. They gave up when they realized how well armed the group was. It was dark by the time they followed the signs to the turn off and took the road that led to the plant. 

The vehicles passed through the small village that had hosted tourists and saw no activity. The plant gates were closed, the building dark and silent. They trained the bright spotlights on the fence as the marksmen made the first approach. A heavy chain was threaded through the gate, the lock succumbing readily to bolt cutters. They drove all the vehicles through and parked outside a large roller door. Q keyed the radio. “If we can get that up, we can shine the floods inside and see what we're doing. Ideas?”

One of the engineers spoke up. “Might have a backup mechanical hoist inside. Get it up a foot or so and we can use the tow hook to pull it the rest of the way.”

“Let's try it,” Q agreed. He watched from the door of his vehicle as a group of five figures entered a small side door. There was a resounding rattle a few minutes later and the heavy door rose enough to haul the tow hook through. Within another ten minutes, they had the roller up and secured and access to the interior. Mallory sent armed teams up the ladders to the catwalks and let the technicians get to work. 

Q immediately hurried to the small enclosure at the far end of the huge room, hunting up the checklists for operation that the crews had worked from. He stalked around the room, Bond trailing watchfully, rifle slung but his right hand close to the holstered Glock. Q examined switch positions and had one of his people shine a light down into the weir outside. He turned around grinning broadly. “They did it right. They turned everything off and just let the water divert. Everything is just waiting to be turned on again.” He began to excitedly instruct his people to redirect the vanes that controlled the water coming into the turbines. As they began to spin up, he tripped the switch and the first generator in the row began to hum. Lights inside the plant flickered, dimmed, and eventually steadied. There was a raucous cheer and Q accepted a flood of congratulations. 

Mallory walked over from where he had been watching the proceedings. The room was already feeling warmer after the outside chill. It would be even more so when the roller door could be lowered. “I sent a squad to check the fences and positioned guards at the gate. Nobody has seen any activity so far. All the vehicles are inside the fence and one person is going to be on guard at each of them with four hour shift changes. Aside from that, I think we might be more comfortable in here.”

Dr Saunders had come up behind Mallory. “Good idea,” she approved. “Break out some food and a little of that alcohol and get some rest.”

The rest of the personnel were directed inside, shedding coats and gloves as the warmth permeated the huge space. Everyone was tired and it didn't take long for the excited conversations to die down to sleepy exchanges. Q kept examining his diagrams and wandering around the generators, making notes. “Why not turn them all on?” Bond asked, gesturing at the idle machines.

“Don't need them yet. As it is this one is producing more than enough. I don't want it to overspin and get damaged so I don't even have the turbine set to allow full flow. When we start to move down to that village and check the power lines, I can add load and gradually put the other generators online.”

As Q was speaking, Bond was gradually shifting him by small increments back to the office at the far end of the space. It was unoccupied and Bond had been pleased to see it contained a small sofa on which he had deposited blankets and some sandwiches along with a clear bottle. He plucked the diagrams away and set them carefully on the desk and bodily sat Q down, gaining a mild frown which he kissed away. “Eat something,” he ordered, setting a sandwich into an unresisting hand and opening the bottle. 

Q swallowed a bite and took a sip, shaking his head as the burn kicked in. “I'm not going to be drinking much of that.”

James was eating his own food. “I have water as well. And a little isn't going to hurt. You'll sleep better for it.” He took a small swallow himself and passed the bottle over. Q wrinkled his nose a bit but found the second taste was actually better. By the time they finished eating, he was feeling drowsy and made no objection when James hauled his boots off and tucked his feet up on the sofa, They fell asleep that way, blankets wrapped around them, the generator hum and the flow of the water outside a comforting backdrop to their dreams.


End file.
